


The Good Doctors

by Siobhan_Daley



Series: The Life of One Dr. Nilam Houbima [1]
Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: AMAB OC, Falling In Love, Falling in love a little too fast, Family Dynamics, Future Character Death, Gay Teenage Romance, Individual chapter themes/tags/warnings in pre-chapter notes, M/M, Male pronouns for Asra, Mild Sexual Humor, Occasional angst, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Prequel, The worst flirting somebody stop them, We all know this ends in tragedy, We've played the game, domestic life, past toxic relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-12
Updated: 2020-10-20
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:29:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 30,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25868968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Siobhan_Daley/pseuds/Siobhan_Daley
Summary: Healer-in-Training Nilam Houbima was just the sort of boy Asra could fall in love with far too quickly; Kind, clever, generous to a fault, and a looker to boot. Apprenticed to Nilam's aunt Zila to learn the arts of healing and magic, Asra finally has all the things he used to dream about; Something to learn, somewhere to call home, and someone to love. In time, perhaps he could call the Houbimas family. Asra thought he could see his Happily Ever After.But poor Asra is only at the beginning of the story.
Relationships: Apprentice/Asra (The Arcana), Asra/OC, Asra/Original Male Character
Series: The Life of One Dr. Nilam Houbima [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1929646
Comments: 2
Kudos: 14





	1. The Boy on the Beach

The sea sparkled that day. The wind had finally shifted and blown away the storm clouds that had hung over Vesuvia for weeks. All of a sudden, seemingly the whole city was bringing their friends and families to the beach. Young children splashed in the surf while their older family watched or strolled through the fine white sand.

If you chose to take a stroll that afternoon, if you walked all the way to the docks, the scene might've looked quite similar. But maybe you would notice the sand was not so fine there. Rather than a perfect view of the open ocean, the water was crowded with ships and coarse shouting. Children still played in the waves, but the only adults in sight passed by them with nary a glance. It is among the orphans that this story begins.

Just up the beach by the street, young Asra sat cross-legged on the ground beside a shop, offering fortunes and keeping an eye on the younger children running about. Even though he and Muriel had long since left their old home under the dock, Asra still enjoyed coming to the beach to babysit the kids. Most of them were real sweethearts, when they weren't trying to pick your pocket.

As the hot sun began to sink and stain the light pink and gold, a sharp squeal cut across the beach. Asra's head shot up from his little fortune-telling table just in time to see all the kids in the sand run screeching toward one of the docks. "What on earth…?" Asra muttered to himself, his eyes trailing down the beach to the growing gaggle of children. In the middle of the swarm stood someone he'd never seen before, a boy no older than himself, with dark hair and a long, brick-Red coat. What was he doing? He was too far away to see clearly. <

As if to answer, a strong breeze brought to him the scent of something hot and delicious. Curious, hungry, and tired of sitting on cobblestone, Asra quickly packed up his few belongings and made his way over to the excited horde. As he approached, the children's cries of 'Me next! Me next! I want some!' Got louder and clearer.

"Everybody calm down," the stranger coolly called over them, "I made plenty for all of you." The closer Asra got, the stronger the smell of food became. At the edge of the crowd, Asra could finally see what the kids were clamoring for: A rich stew, served to them in bowls of bread. No wonder they were so excited. And… were those bricks? Wrapped in paper? The stranger passed out a few more servings, then his sight locked onto Asra. His eyes flicked up to the white curls on his head, then forced his small smile a little wider for a moment. "You must be this 'Asra' the kids keep telling me about," he said, drawing some of the children's attention to their friend, "I've heard about you."

Asra opened his mouth to reply, then realized he had no idea how to respond.

The stranger looked away and resumed his task. "Mind lending me a hand? You can take some too once all the kids are fed."

Asra oh-so-eloquently replied, "Oh, uh... yeah, sure." He joined the stranger behind his little cart. 

"Could you dish up the stew for me?"

Simple enough. As requested, Asra ladled the dark, chunky stew into the bowls and passed them down to the stranger. "So, you got a name? Or should I make one up?"

"Why don't you pick one, fortune teller? We'll see if you're close."

Asra squinted at him. "Mmm...Micha?"

The stranger laughed aloud. "Try again. First letter was close, though."

"I'm a fortune teller, not a psychic." 

"Fair enough," he conceded. "I'm Nilam Houbima."

"Houbima…" Asra furrowed his brows slightly. "That name sounds familiar."

"You visit the marketplace much? My aunt's shop is near there. Maybe you saw the name on the sign. Kelly, no pushing."

"Maybe…" Asra tried to picture the shop Nilam mentioned. "What does she sell?"

"Well, she's a magician, so a lot of things. I'm actually her apprentice."

Asra's eyes lit up. "You're a magician?"

"Yep. Aunt Zila's taught me since I was a kid. Who taught you?"

"You can te-?" He looked down. "Well, I can’t really call myself a magician. I never had a teacher or anything. I'm pretty much self-taught, but I only have the one book, and it's just fortune telling stuff."

"You any good?"

"At fortune telling?"

"It's a rarer talent than you'd think. I've been practicing for years and I still rarely get my own fortunes right." Nilam handed out one more brick, and at long last, all the children finally had food in their hands. "Well, your turn, Asra. Please, help yourself to my wares." He gestured dramatically as though he was on stage.

Asra laughed and served himself some stew. "Are you an actor too?" Careful not to spill, he took a seat in the sand against the cart's wheel.

"If only I’d the time." Nilam sat down against the cart's leg. "My aunt takes me to plays sometimes though." He passed Asra one of his paper-wrapped bricks. "Take one of these too. It's good stuff."

Asra took the brick. "I've been meaning to ask… what are these?"

"It's called pemmican. My mom taught me how to make it when I was younger. It's basically a dense block of protein and whatnot. A little goes a long way and it lasts a long time. Plus I made my own little... additions, you could say."

Asra gave Nilam a funny look. "Is there something in this I should know about..?"

"Just things to help keep the kids healthy," Nilam shrugged casually."Try a bite. See what you think." 

Asra unwrapped one end and inspected it. Frankly, it looked about as appealing as soap, but it actually smelled pretty good. He bit a small chunk off the corner. It was a little tough at first, but softened up pretty quick and was surprisingly tasty. Then once he'd swallowed, that tiny bite felt far more filling than it had any right to be. "It this stuff magic?"

"Yup. Did the enchantments myself."

Asra stared at the block in wonder. "That's amazing…" Nilam took a moment while he was distracted to get a proper look at Asra, most importantly his aura, and Nilam was pleased with what he saw.

"That reminds me, Asra," Nilam brought Asra's attention back, "You never got to answer my question earlier. About whether you're any good at fortune telling."

"Why do you want to know?"

"Like I said, it's a rare talent. With effort, just about anybody could learn the _skill_ , but an innate talent for it… that's something special." He gave Asra a meaningful look. "Something that might help get someone to teach you, perhaps, if you were so inclined. So are you good or not?"

"Well, um…" Asra searched for the right words, "I've got room to grow for sure. Sometimes I misinterpret things, and once in a while I accidentally mess up the reading - not that anyone notices - but when I'm genuinely trying, I think I'm at least decent."

"Hmm…" Nilam hummed as he thought, "And when you're not trying?"

"Then I just tell them the bullshit they came to me to hear."

"How often are you trying?"

"If the customer is genuine, I am too. If they're just looking for validation or whatever, it's not worth the effort. So… it varies."

Nilam gave a little nod. "Makes sense. Give little time to those who would waste yours."

"Sounds like a proverb."

"It is. In my mother's country, anyway. Though speaking of time…" Nilam fished a round watch out of his pocket and checked the hour. "I need to start heading back home soon. Got some work to finish by tonight." He stood up and smacked the sand of his clothes.

"Well, don't let me keep you then." Asra gave him a little wave. "Get home safe."

Nilam flashed a smile at Asra as he packed up his cart. "That's usually the plan. See you around, Asra."

* * *

The little shop was quiet as the sky began to turn orange, save for the scrape of the mortar and pestle as Nilam ground up another batch of medicine. No customers had come in for an hour or so, and traffic outside seemed to be dying down for the evening. Perhaps it was time to put out the lantern and close?

Just as Nilam dropped a few pinches of chamomile into the mortar, the door opened with a jingle. He looked up from his work, ready to jump into his 'Welcome To Our Shop's spiel. "Aunt Zila!" he said with a smile, "I thought you'd be out until late."

"I hope I haven't spoiled any mischief you might have planned," the shallow wrinkles around her eyes deepened with her own smile. "Unfortunately, dear Jameela had to cancel our plans. Her daughter's sick, poor thing." Zila set her loaded basket on the end of the counter. "We'll go to the theatre another night."

"Will she be alright?"

"Jameela's girl? Oh yes, it's nothing serious. She should be right as rain in a few days. Though I might have you run over and bring her some medicine in the morning, just to make her a little more comfortable." Zila started unloading sachets of herbs and roots, bottled tinctures, and various other supplies for their work. "Put these away for me, dear?"

"Yes, ma'am." Nilam set the mortar aside and got to work sorting everything into their proper places. "Did you put out the lantern on your way in? I was just thinking it might be time to close for the night."

"I did." Zila nodded once at the mortar. "What are you making?"

"Something for Mrs. Amin's son. He's got some anxiety problems that are getting worse, so I'm trying to come up with a suitable treatment for him."

She blinked in surprise. "I thought the Amins go to that doctor over in Goldgrave."

"They did, but apparently they decided he's a quack, so she came in this morning to see if there was anything we could do," Nilam said nonchalantly, "I said I'd give it a shot."

"Of course you did." Zila unloaded the last of the groceries from her basket and stepped behind the counter. She picked up the mortar and gave it a sniff. "Are you planning to add anything else?"

"Licorice root next, and I was considering yellowort." Nilam put away the last of the fresh stock. "Think that's too much?"

Zila thought for a moment. "No, that sounds fine, just use a light hand with the wort."

Nilam nodded, retrieved the ingredients and resumed his task. Meanwhile, Zila slipped upstairs to start on dinner. It took a while to get everything properly ground and molded into round, even little pastilles. Many would consider it quite a dull chore, but Nilam rather enjoyed it. There was a certain meditative quality to it. Grind, roll, stamp, dry. Grind, roll, stamp, dry. It was almost soothing, in a way. Once he was satisfied with his product, he took the batch into the side storage room, slid the tray into the drying rack, and locked up the shop.

"Need any help, Auntie?" Nilam called up the stairs as he climbed.

"You could get the dishes out, if you wouldn't mind."

He rounded the corner into the kitchen and, as requested, fetched everything to set their little round table for dinner. He brought the bowls over to the fire for Zila to fill with the fragrant stew that had been bubbling away all day. He returned to the table and swapped them for the empty plates, soon to be filled with sweet-roasted root vegetables.

Nilam sniffed the rising steam and hummed appreciatively. "Honey or sugar?"

"Both," Zila smiled and straightened her shawl. "Now sit! Eat! Tell me how today's trip to the docks went."

"Pretty typical," Nilam started as he began to eat, "Nice day, the kids behaved themselves alright… Oh! And I met somebody."

Zila's brown eyes sparkled with interest. "You _met_ somebody, did you? Someone you're interested in, or..?"

"I did only meet him today, Auntie. He sure was pretty, though," he said with a teasing tone. "Probably more interesting though, he's a magician. Untrained, but from what I could tell, he might have potential."

Zila's whole face lit up. "Is that so? Does he have a specialty yet?"

Nilam nodded and swallowed a mouthful of beet. "Kinda. He's a fortune-teller."

"How skilled is he?"

"Moderately. Makes his money doing it. Considering he's self-taught and grew up on the streets, seems Asra's done pretty well." Nilam gazed into the middle distance with an intentionally 'innocent' smile. "I wonder how much he could accomplish with a proper teacher."

"Well then maybe you should invite your _interesting_ new friend to come visit. I'm sure you could introduce him to several magicians who would just _love_ to teach a talented diviner."

"I'll extend the invitation if I run into him again," Nilam promised. "But what about you? How'd your day go?" He asked as he finished his stew.

"Well, like I told you earlier, Jameela had to cancel because of her daughter. So in lieu of that, I did some shopping, a bit of pro bono work in the Flooded District - a bit of first aid, common sniffles, what-have-you. And I paid a visit to another friend of mine."

Nilam popped a bite of parsnip in his mouth. "Who'd you see?"

"Don't talk while you're chewing. You know Ramana Hudi?"

"The tailor in Goldgrave?"

"That's them. Have you ever gone to their shop? Oh! Such beautiful work. They really are an artist with a needle."

Nilam tapped his chin and he finished his plate. "I think they might've shown me some of their design sketches when I was a kid, but I don't think I've ever actually seen their clothes in person."

Zila smiled mischievously. "Would you like to?"

"Don't tell me you-"

"I did."

"But aren't Ramana's clothes really expensive?"

"They can be," she admitted, "But for an old friend, she cut me a deal." Zila got up from her chair and started clearing the table. "It's hung up in my wardrobe if you'd like to see. Go ahead and pull it out."

Like a child at Solstice, Nilam gladly bounded over to Zila's wardrobe and rifled through its familiar contents. Coming from Ramana Hudi, it would undoubtedly be something glamorous. "Oh wow," he breathed once his fingers finally found silk. _Fine_ silk, more so than any other garment either Houbima owned. With great care, he drew it out to have a look.

Zila came up behind him quietly and placed a hand on his shoulder. "What do you think?"

"This is absolutely beautiful, Zila." He shifted the elegant gown to see how the dark silk simmered in the light. "Is this going to be your masquerade costume?"

"Oh goodness no!" Zila laughed, "It wouldn't fit me. Besides, you know green isn't my color." She took the gown from Nilam and held it up to his front. "This is yours."

"Wha- Why..?" Nilam stammered, completely at a loss for words. "It's so… Thank you so much, Auntie." 

Zila gave her nephew a warm hug. "You deserve it. You work so hard for everyone else, I just had to do something nice for you." She released him and raised her hands to rest on his shoulders so she could look him in the eye. "And you're not a little boy anymore. It's high time you had a proper costume. Now go try it on. I'm dying to see it on you."

Nilam dashed behind the curtain separating his space from Zila's. He eagerly changed out of his plain day clothes, boots and all, then slipped the gown - _his_ gown - on instead. Once he was sure he had it on properly, he turned around to see himself in the mirror.

"How is it, Nilam?" Zila asked through the curtain, "Everything fit right?"

"It's…" He stared at his reflection. It fit like his own skin, softer than air and not restricting in the slightest. The dark, foresty green of the fabric was the perfect shade for him, gleaming with tasteful silver embellishments. As he turned, the skirt swayed like vines on the breeze, and dozens of tiny crystals glittered, scattered across the soft pleats like so many dark, lonely stars. It was beautiful. No, "It's perfect."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments, questions, and constructive criticism is always welcomed!


	2. Teller of Fortunes, Seller of Masks

The Masquerade was due to start any minute now. Technically, it was supposed to start over an hour ago, but the gates would only open when the Count wanted them to, regardless of the common folk waiting outside. The raucous spirit of the party was already seeping through the mob, however, and the vendors outside the gates reaped the benefits with pleasure.

Asra was no exception.

Selling masks was easy and moderately lucrative when half your clients are already drunk, incredibly vain, or both. They'd be in and out in a matter of minutes, (often overpaying if they were _really_ plastered) leaving Asra more time to attend to any polite, sober-ish customers who wandered into his tent.

After a while, things outside seemed to slow and fewer people meandered in, unless they were bare-faced new arrivals or revelers who already managed to damage their old masks. So few customers came in that Asra started to wonder whether it was worth staying open, but… No, no, the Masquerade hadn't even officially begun yet. It was far too early to close up shop and label the night a bust.

Suddenly, several high-pitched whistles screeched through the air, ending in the explosive crackle of fireworks. The throngs of partygoers screamed in delight and stampeded toward the palace gates. After a few moments of deafening noise, someone in green flung throughout the tent flaps, stumbling and swearing as though he'd been thrown. Once he regained his balance, he straightened up and smoothed the front of his gown.

"Sorry for the undignified entry," he apologized as he turned to greet the vendor, "Those people are completely fuc-"

The two looked at each other and froze, each immediately recognizing the other. "It's you!" They both shouted in unison before a short burst of laughter from Nilam.

"I had a feeling I'd run into again, but I didn't think it’d be like this," Nilam mused, "You didn't tell me you make masks too."

"I don't, really," Asra admitted, "I help paint sometimes, but my friend is the real craftsman. I just sell them."

Nilam took a mask from its hook and examined it. "He does good work. Much better than the crap they're peddling out there."

Asra stifled a chuckle. “Are they really that bad?”

“Cheap trash, most of it," Nilam affirmed with a disdainful glance out the entrance, “‘Course they charge and a leg for their garbage. And don’t get me started on all the fake magicians. Faking fortunes, slinging snake oil...” He returned the mask he was holding to its hook, carefully straightening it and glancing oh-so-quickly at Asra like he was about to say something.

While Nilam browsed the masks, Asra admired his shining, glittering garb. He seemed so different from that day on the beach. Not in a bad way. Nilam seemed to have shed his everyday persona, allowing another side to shine through. His language wasn't so stiff and deliberate. A little coarser, perhaps, but more honest. He even carried himself differently, not so much like a common boy, but the kind of person who was accustomed to the finery he wore.

"You're not some kind of aristocrat or something, are you?" Asra blurted before he could stop himself.

Nilam stopped what he was doing and turned, puzzled. "What?"

Was there a hole nearby Asra could fling himself into? "I… um… You just seem kinda… I dunno… noble, I guess?"

A beat of silence. Then Nilam doubled over laughing. "Sorry! I'm sorry!" He wheezed, "I'm totally not laughing at you, promise! I just did _not_ see that coming." He took a deep breath once he regained control of his lungs and straightened himself back up.

"So I take it you're not nobility then?"

"Hardly," he scoffed, "You think some nobleman would haul a cart all the way across town to feed a gaggle of hungry orphans?"

"I dunno about the cart part, but… shouldn't they?"

"I said _would_. As for me and mine, we do well enough, but I'm solidly a working-class commoner, like most everyone else in the Central District." Asra's red face didn't slip past Nilam. "Were you hoping I was secretly heir to some great fortune or title or something? Sorry to disappoint," he joked, trying to diffuse the tension.

It did seem to work a bit. "I wouldn't say I was hoping, but you definitely look the part."

Now it was Nilam's turn to get a bit pink. "I… You think so?"

"You do own a mirror, don't you?" The heat started dissipating from Asra's cheeks. "You look like some kind of exotic prince dressed like that." Did… did he just hit on Nilam?

"Do you say that to all the boys, you flatterer?" Nilam teased, still flustered, but maintaining his composure.

A hint of a cheeky smirk crawled onto Asra's face. A little flirting with a cute boy never hurt before. "Only when it's true. And you know, it really wouldn't do for a prince to show up to the Masquerade with his face exposed." 

Nilam grinned. Alright. Two can play that game. "No, you're right. That simply wouldn't do at all." He sauntered up to Asra's table and leaned in, just on the cusp of too close. "Perhaps you could help remedy the situation, my good merchant?" With that sultry purr, there was no denying they were both flirting. And Nilam was _good_. Perhaps he should have gone into theatre after all.

"Well, milord," Asra played along, straining to keep his voice even, "Let's see if I have something suitable for you and your…" He let his eyes drift down a ways before trailing back up to Nilam's. "... _exquisite_ costume." Asra stepped out from behind the table and looked through all the masks on display. "Do you see anything you like?"

"A few things." If Asra had turned around, he would have noticed Nilam wasn't looking at the masks.

"None of these are quite right, are they?" Asra mumbled. Maybe there was something better in that crate he had yet to open. "I wonder…" Asra slipped out the back tent flap and quickly returned dragging a decently large crate. He opened it up and carefully sorted through its contents, making sure not to chip anything. "Aha!" Asra triumphantly pulled out the mask he was looking for. "What do you think of this one?"

Nilam took the offered mask to inspect it. It was relatively simple in shape, but in a way More elegant for it. Dark, fine linework curled up the slope of the nose and fanned out across the forehead, stark against the gleaming silver paint. Looking closer, he realized the etched swirling vines were not black, but a dark, dark green. The only true black on the whole piece was the fine, sharp lines around the eyes.

"I like it," Nilam said, "Mind if I try it on?"

"Of course. Please do."

Nilam slid the mask into place, making sure it was snug and secure. "How does it look?"

"You look fantastic," Asra barely spoke, actively working to keep his jaw off the floor. That mask might as well have been made just for him. On top of matching his costume, it matched _him_. The top half of his face was obscured, but the almondine eyes, the slope of the nose, the bottom edge curling around his cheekbones; all echoed his real face perfectly.

"How much for it?" Nilam reached for his coinpurse.

"No!" Asra said a little louder than intended. Nilam startled a bit and looked at Asra in confusion. "I mean… you don't owe anything for it. It's free."

"Asra, it's fine," Nilam protested, "It wouldn't be right to just take it."

"I insist. It's yours. If it eases your conscience, consider it a token of… um…" Asra wracked his brain for anything to justify what he was saying. "Thanks! That's it. Yeah. Let's call it a token of thanks. For what you did for the kids before."

Nilam smiled softly and took a few slow steps closer. "You know charity means I don't expect anything in return, right?"

"Doesn't mean you can't accept a thank-you gift, does it?" Asra turned his eyes to the floor. "Well, maybe there's a little more to it, but… I really am grateful for what you did. Back on the beach, you showed those kids more kindness and generosity than I ever got when I was in their position. Seeing that meant a lot to me. So please, accept what I have to give."

Questions hung in the air between them, but now was not the time for them. Nilam nodded once with a small but genuine smile. "Alright. I'll accept your wonderful gift."

There was a moment of silence, but not an awkward one. "You know," Asra piped up, "If you'd like, I'd be happy to do a reading for you sometime." He glanced out the front tent flap to see if anyone was coming in their direction. The only people in the street appeared to be heading straight to the palace. "We could do it right now, if you want." Oh no no no! Wrong wording! "The reading, I mean."

"That _does_ sound fun…" Nilam pondered, subtly teasing Asra's innuendo. "But I think I may have to take you up on it another time. I should go find my aunt soon. She's probably worrying I got trampled or something." The boys shared a chuckle. "Though speaking of Zila, I actually mentioned you to her after the day on the beach."

Asra felt himself starting to flush again. "O-oh? You did? What did you tell her?"

"Oh, just that I met a young magician in need of a mentor." Nilam cast Asra a charming smile. "How would you like to come visit our shop sometime?"

"I'd love to," Asra said a bit too quickly. "Um… how do I get there?"

"Go to the marketplace, then go south along the main road. It's not far from the main market."

"And when do you want me?"

Nilam's lips twitched slightly. "Whenever you want. Though during open hours would probably be best."

"I'll come by soon," Asra promised. "Is your aunt okay with me visiting?"

"It was her idea. Not that I wasn't considering it myself." Nilam straightened his clothes and checked the diminished crowd outside. "Sorry Asra, I should probably go before things get crazy again."

Asra nodded and knelt down to re-pack the crate of masks he'd opened. "Right. Of course. Thank your aunt for me, would you? For the invitation."

"Will do." Nilam started towards the exit, then stopped just short of the threshold. "Before I go, I'm curious… Are you gonna be working through the whole Masquerade, or will you join in at some point?"

"I'll join eventually. There comes a point where everyone who needs a mask has one, so…"

"No point staying open. I get ya." Nilam gave Asra one last smile. "Well, see you at the party."

Did... did he just wink?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments, questions, and constructive criticism is always welcomed!


	3. The Masquerade

The palace was filled with color, noise, smells, people. It was utter chaos in that special way that let the Vesuvians forget about their troubles for a while (even though this party _caused_ a great many of them), and in some cases provided the opportunity to do things they'd never try otherwise, for better or worse. It can be amazing, the power of a mask.

The only mask Asra was looking for was silver, an oddly uncommon color to see people wearing at the Masquerade, probably because of the Count's excessive love of gold and elaborate gilding - much of which was quite tacky, in Asra's opinion.

_'See you at the party.'_

Those parting words kept replaying in his head. The coy smile, the wink, the velvet tone that suggested… something. He barely knew Nilam, yet Asra still found himself searching for the boy in green. But where the hell was he? The palace was too large and crowded to look everywhere, and most guests were too hammered to help even if they _had_ seen Nilam.

Well, there was one room everyone was bound to pass through at some point - the ballroom. Might as well start there. He made his way through the corridors, clinging to the wall as much as possible to avoid getting trapped in the throngs of drunks and oblivious partiers. It took time and patience, but he eventually made it to the grand ballroom. Dancers in every color of costume twirled and spun around the room like a bejewelled kaleidoscope. It was almost dizzying, and the odds of finding any particular person in that mess of humans were extremely low. Now what?

Out of the corner of his eye, Asra spotted a servant's uniform and they sped past. The man wearing it carried a stack of empty platters in his arms. Asra flagged him down, hoping he might have seen Nilam, or at least might have an idea of how to find him.

"Excuse me, sir! Could you help me? It'll only take a moment."

The servant halted and gave Asra an odd look. "Did you just call me ‘sir’? You weren't talking to someone else, were you?"

"No, I'm talking to you." Asra hurried to catch up to where the servant stopped. "I'm sure you're busy, so I'll try to keep it quick. I'm looking for somebody, a young guy about my age, wearing a dark green costume and a silver mask. Seen anybody like that?"

The servant looked to the side as he thought. "Maybe… Does your guy have dark curly hair? Kinda pale? Fancy gown?"

"Yes! That sounds like exactly who I'm looking for!"

"I saw him about fifteen minutes ago. Heard him asking Lillius about the marine room." The servant jerked his chin toward the right-hand corridor beyond the main entrance. "Head out, first right. The marine room's a few doors down on the right. You'll find it."

"Thank you, sir!" Asra sped away and down the right corridor. Many of the rooms were filled with all sorts of food, many of which he'd never seen before. Other rooms had so many people in them he couldn't tell what was supposed to be going on in there.

Eventually, Asra came to a doorway spilling soft, rippling blue light into the corridor. The smell of fresh, hot seafood poured out and made his mouth water. Yeah, this looked about right. Asra walked in and was astonished at the sheer array of dishes spread across the tables partygoers lounged about on… well, he wasn't quite sure what to call them, but they looked something like a hybrid between a chaise lounge and a bed. Most people had plates of food with them, and here and there Asra spotted couples cuddling or feeding each other, and a pair in the corner looked to be doing something that probably shouldn't be done in public, and he didn't particularly want to know.

He scanned the room again, this time searching for Nilam and his beautiful costume. The blue light threw the colors off a bit, but he eventually found what he was looking for. The light changed the rich forest green into a shade more akin to seaweed, fittingly enough, and his skin looked like sun-bleached bone. As Asra approached, Nilam's eyes seemed locked on the ceiling, darting around like they were chasing something. He appeared oblivious to everything around him. Asra was just about to announce himself when -

"I was wondering when you'd get here." Nilam turned his head and gave Asra a lazy smile. "How'd business go?"

Asra shrugged and took a seat next to Nilam, just far enough to be appropriate. "Pretty average, really. Made a decent amount of money, but nothing terribly exciting." Not after Nilam left, anyway.

"Sure know what that's like. Story of my life." Nilam yawned a little. He blinked hard a few times and sat up with a groan. "Oof, I've been laying down too long. I've been laying down too long. You hungry?"

Now that he mentioned it, Asra's stomach did seem to be complaining some. "I could eat."

"You like seafood?"

"I'm not too picky, so I’ll go with yes."

"Then let's go get some," Nilam suggested, "Think I should stand up and walk around for a little while. Gotta shake this drowsiness."

"It _is_ pretty late, you know," Asra pointed out, "It's normal to be tired this time of night."

"I know," Nilam grunted as he stood, "But I'm not done here yet, so sleep can buzz off 'til I get home." He extended a hand to Asra, who gladly took it and Nilam hauled him up. He must have pulled a little too hard, sending them both stumbling and holding onto each other so they wouldn't topple over. "Sorry 'bout that," Nilam chuckled, "You good?"

"Totally fine," Asra assured. "Food?"

Nilam nodded. "Food." The pair perused the tables, sampling bites of anything that looked appealing - which happened to be most of it. The things they liked wound up on their plates, leaving plenty of room for the other delicacies. "The crab legs over there are fantastic." Nilam pointed to a table a few meters away. "If you're a fan, definitely grab some. Don't even have to shell 'em yourself." He walked over and took his own advice, taking quite a bit more than he had from anywhere else in the room.

Asra followed, the sudden enthusiasm not slipping past him. "I take it you like crab," he mused, watching the pile of crab meat grow and grow.

"What ever gave you that idea?" Nilam set the serving tongs down. He could always come back for more if he wanted. "Want some too?"

"I think you have enough for the both of us," Asra laughed.

"Maybe so," Nilam admitted. "Suppose I'll just have to share." He took a ramekin of melted butter from the table and pushed it into the last open spot on his plate. "Anything else you want, or should we sit back down?"

"I think I'm good. Let's sit." The boys made their way to an unoccupied chaise-bed at a leisurely pace. Asra looked around at the other guests, most staring straight up like Nilam had been earlier. "Hey, Nilam, why is everybody staring at the ceiling?"

Nilam looked at him in amused surprise. "You didn't notice?"

Asra looked up. "Notice wha- Holy shit…"

Instead of a ceiling, a small lake's worth of water hung in the air, suspended by nothing but magic. A false sun shone from above as though they were looking up from the seabed, and schools of glittering fish swam all throughout. "This is incredible," Asra gasped, transfixed.

"Let's sit and watch, then. Dinner and a show, yeah?"

Asra nodded slowly, still staring at the ceiling. "Yeah… yeah, let's do that."

Nilam sprawled out on one side of the huge chaise, lounging as though he owned the place. Asra followed suit, though perhaps with a tad less of that relaxed bravado. They watched the seascape above them as they worked through their delicious, delicious food, occasionally trading bites or marveling at the occasional shark lazing past.

"I can't imagine ever being able to make something as amazing as this," Asra whispered, more to himself than anyone else.

"I bet you could," Nilam disagreed, "Actually, with proper training - and a lot of practice - I suspect you could do far more impressive."

Asra turned his head and quirked an eyebrow. "Who's the flatterer now?"

"It's true though. Sure, the Count's magicians are skilled. But I told you, Asra, you've got talent. Raw, untapped talent, and you're not stuck working for a bratty megalomaniac."

Asra choked on a laugh. "There's a bold statement. Is he really that bad?"

"You've never had to listen to one of his speeches, have you?" Asra shook his head. "Lucky you." Few really liked talking about Count Lucio most of the time, especially at his own birthday party, so the boys changed the subject to something a little less controversial than the infamous host. What are your interests? What do you do for fun? Have you ever accidentally stowed away on a merchant caravan?

"Have I ever _what?_ " Asra stared incredulously. "Did you do that?"

"Maybe." He sure didn't look sheepish about it. "I definitely won that game of hide-and-seek, though. Oh," he picked a piece of crab off his plate. "Would you like some of this? It's quite good." Nilam wiggled the segment in the air, probably intending for it to look like a little red worm, but… well…

Asra couldn't hold in his laughter, muddling it in a pillow instead.

Behind his mask, Nilam's charmingly cocky smile wavered ever so slightly. "Did I say something funny?"

"Sorry," Asra wheezed, "It's just that looks so, so much ruder than it should," he called as he struggled to regain his composure. It wasn't really working.

"Rude..?" Nilam looked at the morsel again. He blinked a few times before he realized what Asra was laughing at and snorted. "Oh, I see." A mischievous glint flashed in the green of his eyes. "Is this better?"

Asra looked up from his pillow, face red from laughing. The scene was almost the same, except the offending bit of flesh now glistened, just shy of dripping butter. "Okay, now you're _trying_ to make that look dirty."

"Am I?" Nilam smiled coyly. "I'm not sure what you mean. I just thought you might like a taste of this delicious, _succulent_ meat."

Asra rolled his eyes. "Oh, for the love of- You're awful, you know that? Give it here." He reached over to take the offering, but Nilam drew it back. So that's how he wanted to do things? Alright. Asra could play that game too.

He made a show of leaning in slowly, in and down, eyes half-lidded and dark, his teeth just bared within a taunting smile. He let it hit his tongue with a tiny, almost inaudible little noise from his throat, then his eyes flicked up to Nilam's in a flash of violet, and he bit. Oh damn, it really _was_ good.

Nilam muttered a few syllables that didn't quite form a word. "What was that?" Asra asked, teasingly sweet. He suppressed a giggle at the reddish tinge creeping up Nilam's face.

"Nothing," he almost squeaked and cleared his throat. "Um… do you… You can have more, if you want."

"No, that's alright. I've already eaten too much. One more bite and I think I might explode!"

"Well we wouldn't want that, would we?" Nilam chuckled, still pink-cheeked. "Wanna go find something else to do? There's lots of rooms to explore."

Asra nodded and the pair departed, their elbows interlocked. So they wouldn't get separated, of course. They wove through the torrent of masked revelers, peeking through doorways as they passed. One room was full of butterflies fluttering through the air. One had aerialists in dazzling costumes performing on gleaming silks and trapezes for a delighted audience. Another room was on fire. For some reason.

"Anything look like fun?" Nilam asked after a few minutes.

"What? It's kinda loud, I didn't catch that."

He slowed down and leaned in closer to Asra. "I said, 'Does anything look like fun?'"

"Ah. Lots of things," Asra replied, "There's so much it's hard to choose."

"Well, what would you like to-" Nilam glanced into another room and halted in his tracks. "The hell..?"

Asra turned around to see what he was looking at. "What is it?"

"Nothing let's go!" He pulled Asra along and away from the vandalizing room. "Gods, you'd think they'd throw up a curtain or something…"

"What? What happened?"

"Not sure I wanna know. Something involving paint and a _lot_ of nudity."

"Oh…" Well that wasn't quite what he expected. "Like, um… body art?"

"Noo, not exactly." Oh my. Asra hadn't realized it would be _that_ kind of party. At least it was contained to one room. Hopefully. "How 'bout we head down to the ballroom for a while?" Nilam suggested, "I doubt we'll see anything so… that."

"Yes, that sounds excellent," Asra agreed, "Not interested in seeing any unsolicited butts tonight, thank you." They laughed off the situation and beelined for the ballroom, avoiding looking through any other doorways lest there be more unexpected tushes."

* * *

  
  


It was active as ever in the ballroom. The air was thick with voices and music, a fast, energetic piece full of strings and staccatos.

"I wonder if Aunt Zila is still here," Nilam thought out loud, quickly explaining, "She likes to people-watch. This is the best place for it, plus it's a good place to network."

"Makes sense. What's she look like?"

"She's wearing a bronze gecko mask and a kinda grey-blue dress," Nilam said as he scanned the room, "It's so muted it sorta stands out here."

"Why don't we go get a drink and see if we can find her? I wouldn't mind putting a face to the name."

Nilam quirked an eyebrow at Asra, not that he could see it. "You do recall everyone here is wearing masks, right?"

"You know what I meant." Asra grabbed Nilam's hand and tugged him along down the stairs. "Come on, let's see what they have in here."

As with everywhere else in the palace, the array of snacks and libations was dizzying as the dancers spinning around the room. A rainbow of fizzy, sparkly, and creamy drinks spilled from endless fountains or glittered in crystal glasses. What to choose? What to choose?

"So what do you like to drink? Sweet? Bitter?" Nilam picked up a glass of something thick and milky. "Whatever the hell this is?" He set it back down. "I'm just gonna not trust that one."

Asra grimaced. "Yeah, I can't say that looks appealing." He scanned down the long table. "Those ones down there look pretty good." He led them down to an array of sparkling drinks that looked like liquid gemstones. Scents of fruit and flowers wafted up from the glittering glasses.

"Ooh, these smell nice," Nilam said and reached for a deep blue drink.

"I wouldn't suggest that one, sweetheart."

Nilam yelped and whipped around to face the voice over his shoulder. "Aunt Zila!"

The crow's feet around Zila's eyes deepened under her mask. "You sound surprised to see me."

"Directly behind me, yeah!" He took a few breaths to restore his heart to its normal, unstartled rhythm. "Though as it happens, we were actually about to go looking for you."

"We?" Zila picked up a shimmery red drink and handed it to Nilam. “Here darling, you’ll like this one better. So you made a friend?”

“Something like that.” He took a gulp of his drink and almost choked in surprise. “Holy shit, that’s got a kick! What the hell’re you doin’ giving this to your _underage_ nephew?”

“Don’t tell your father. Now where’s your friend? I want to meet them.”

Nilam flagged down Asra, who had wandered down the table a ways. Upon spotting the peculiar gecko mask, he scurried over, both eager and unexpectedly nervous.

Nilam rested a hand on the back of Asra’s shoulder. “Auntie, this is Asra. Asra,” he gestured toward the older woman, “This is my aunt, Dr. Zila Houbima.”

Asra fiddled nervously with some of the laces on his costume. “Nice to meet you, ma’am.”

She eyed the gold-skinned boy appraisingly. Once satisfied, Zila shook Asra’s hand with an obscured smile. “And it’s a pleasure to meet you, Asra. My boy had only good things to say about you.”

“Zila…” Nilam groaned.

“What? You were the one who said he’s pretty.”

Nilam’s half-mask couldn’t hide the bright red tinge blooming across every inch of exposed skin above the collar. “That’s not… I said more than that!”

“But it _was_ the first thing you said.”

Nilam smothered his face in his hands with another mortified groan. “Why do you do this to me, Auntie?”

“Because it’s funny, and I love you. It’s my job to embarrass you from time to time.” She gave a sharp nod of exaggerated insistence. “It’s an important part of raising a child.”

“Says the spinster.”

“‘It takes a village,’ isn’t that what they say? Us spinsters are an important part of the community, with our wine, and our day-drinking, and our cats, and our wine!”

“What a life to aspire to.”

Asra watched the exchange with a mix of amusement, bewildered fascination, and something he couldn’t quite place the name of that made his ribs feel a bit too tight. Not in a bad way… probably. But also, Zila claimed Nilam said Asra was pretty. And he didn’t deny it in the slightest. Holy crap, Nilam thought he was pretty!

Eventually, Zila had her fill of pestering and embarrassing her nephew and turned her attention to Asra. “My apologies, I didn’t mean to ignore you, but it’s just so fun to tease him.”

“You’ll have to teach me your secrets,” Asra replied and cast Asra a cheeky glance at Nilam taking a deep gulp of his drink. “Don’t you think that’d be fun too, Nilam?”

Nilam managed to avoid choking and muttered, “I’ve made a terrible mistake.”

Asra and Zila laughed - not at Nilam, just the situation. “Don’t worry too much, sweetheart, I won’t teach him _everything_. He’s got to discover some things for himself, doesn’t he?” 

“What was it Gramma used to say about counting chickens before they hatch?”

Nilam got a little smack on the arm with the fringed end of Zila’s shawl. “Don’t use my own mother’s sayings against me, you smug little shit. I feed you. Though speaking of teaching,” she turned back to Asra with an eager glint in the shadows of her mask, “My Nilam tells me you’re a magician.”

“Oh. Um, well… I don’t- I mean… my parents, _they_ were magicians. I read a lot of their books as a kid and they taught me a little, so I guess I kinda know some magic, but all I really know how to do is read fortunes, and-”

“Are you any good?”

Asra’s rambling ceased, and he squinted at Zila with a curious tilt of the head. “That’s the same thing Nilam asked when I told him about my fortune-telling, almost verbatim.”

She shrugged, “We _are_ related. And he knows a genuinely good diviner is hard to come by. Harder than you’d expect.”

“Funny, he said that too.”

“And did he extend my ever-so-formal invitation to you to visit our shop? I’m fairly certain he was planning to have you over regardless of my own invite.”

“Zila!”

“ _What?_ Am I wrong?”

“...no, but-”

“Then there’s no issue. Anyway, I’m set to meet Jameela over in the songbird room shortly, and I’d hate to keep the ol’ doll waiting. She’s had such a week.” She turned back to Asra. “I hope to see you again soon, Asra. You’re welcome to drop by any time.” Zila waggled her fingers as she walked away. “You boys have fun~”

The boys were quiet for a moment, save for their sipping of colorful drinks and the rancor of dancers and music. “So…” Asra started, not quite sure what to say, “That was your aunt?”

“Yup.” Nilam stared straight ahead at the dancing guests, not really seeing any of them.

“Seems like a nice lady.”

“Yup.” Stare.

“You’re feeling super awkward about all that, aren’t you?”

“Immensely.”

“Is it because she let it slip that you think I’m pretty?” Asra snickered at Nilam’s pained groan. “Well for the record,” He leaned in close to Nilam’s ear and whispered (as much as one can in such a place), “I think you’re pretty too.”

Nilam almost choked on his drink and whipped his head around to stare at Asra, green eyes wide and his skin flushing red again. He spluttered in search of words or a one-liner that would never come. All that smooth confidence from earlier in the evening was gone, but the pink-cheeked mess in its place was… somehow just as appealing.

For a moment, the music stopped while the musicians switched gears to something slower and softer. “Hey, Nilam?” The flustered boy turned his head, wordlessly giving Asra the go-ahead. “Would you… um… like to dance? With me?”

Nilam blinked a few times as though he thought he might’ve misheard. “You want to dance with me?”

Asra smiled. “I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t. So?” He offered a hand. “Will you dance with me?”

“Um… Ah…” Nilam shook his head to regain his bearings. “Yeah. Yes! Yes, I… I’d like that very much.” He took Asra’s hand and the pair joined the dancers on the floor, a bit less crowded now the energy of the room had mellowed. “Do you prefer to lead or follow?” 

“I can do both,” Asra said as they situated themselves, “Let’s just play it by ear.”

Nilam’s lips twitched up and he seemed to relax a bit. “That sounds good.” Right hands joined and left on each other’s waist, they began to dance.

It took a few measures to find their stride and not trip over each other’s toes. Once they hit it, the dance suddenly felt as easy as floating down a slow river. All the boys had to do was steer clear of the rocks, and the current would do the rest.

They couldn’t not look at each other. Mere inches apart, Asra could see every fleck of color in Nilam’s eyes: There were traces of gold and grey; a field of deep, mossy olive green trapped within a thin ring of black; even a narrow band of cool red in the center. What was Nilam seeing, he wondered.

“Was it true what your aunt said? About...you know…”

“Me saying you’re pretty?” Asra nodded. “...Yeah, it is. Sorry if it’s-”

“I already said I think the same of you,” Asra interrupted, “There’s nothing to apologize for. Besides, why would I be upset that you like how I look?

“Because it’s superficial?” Nilam replied quickly, “Because it-”

“It was rhetorical.”

“Oh, right,” Nilam looked away sheepishly, “I guess I should’ve realized that…”

Asra examined Nilam’s face, or at least the parts he could see. Just a little playful teasing, and he turns into such a different person. Or maybe it’s more of a… another facet to him. It made sense, Asra supposed. Who could walk around with all that bravado all the time? And if they did, well… How interesting would that really be?

“You don’t have to feel so awkward, you know,” Asra said softly, “I’ve yet to find anything I dislike about you at all.”

“It’s not that…” Nilam spoke the same way, more relaxed than before, but clearly still uncomfortable with something, “Everyone has flaws, it’s human nature. It’s just…” He trailed off for a few seconds. “I don’t really know how to put it into words.”

“That’s okay,” Asra assured, “Sometimes words just can’t describe things.” He watched as the tension eased out of Nilam’s face, and he felt it when the rest of Nilam loosened up, making their dancing even smoother. Asra moved in close enough to rest his head lightly on Nilam’s shoulder, the hand on the latter’s hip trailing up to rest on his upper arm as he whispered, “Just let them go for now, and just be right here. Who needs words?”

* * *

Once their feet began to ache and the air in the ballroom suddenly felt too hot for the boys’ liking, they stepped off the dance floor and decided a little fresh air might be nice. A moonlit stroll through the lavish palace gardens? Sounds fantastic. As they stepped out onto a neat flagstone path the slight chill of the night soothed their flaming faces. White peacocks with bejewelled golden collars strutted among the shrubberies, glowing ghostly in the moonlight.

Nilam took in a lungful of cool January air with a satisfied sigh. “Ah, Winter air always smells so nice, doesn’t it?”

“I suppose,” Asra _sort of_ agreed, “I’ve always been partial to Spring, myself.”

“Is it all the flowers?” Nilam asked as they started to walk, “All the new blooms, new life and all that?”

“There’s a bit of that, I guess. But it’s more that Spring is when the foraging starts getting good again,” Asra explained, “An early thaw has made the difference between starving and not, more than once.”

“Do you still have to rely on foraging to survive?” Nilam asked, a tinge of something in his voice. Concern, maybe?

“Not as much nowadays. Muriel still goes out every so often for this, that, and the other thing. We could make it without it, but one can never have too much food available in our situation.”

“Who’s Muriel? A friend, I assume?”

Asra nodded. “We grew up together on the streets. We made money - _still_ make money - telling fortunes and making masks and whatnot. Then a couple years ago, we were able to scrape together enough to get a little shack in South End. It’s not much, but…” He shrugged with a forced smile. “Beggars can’t be choosers, right?”

“I guess that’s one way to look at it.” Evidently Nilam wasn’t a fan of that particular saying. “It’d be better if people didn’t have to starve in the streets in the first place, but hey, I guess I’m an idealist.”

Asra gently steered them into the sprawling hedge maze, lit with tiny fairy-lanterns strung along the bushes. “At least you do something to actually help. It’s a lot more than most people do, believe me.”

“I know. That’s the problem.”

“You know, I gotta ask, why’re you so invested in charity stuff? I’ve never met someone so serious about it. I mean, how many people in this city would just up and decide to start lugging a cart of food around to poor people?”

“Not enough,” Nilam grumbled. “For me, it’s a family thing. It’s just what a Houbima _does_.” Nilam shrugged like it was no big deal.

Asra watched Nilam’s face for a moment while they wandered through the lantern-lit maze. There was no trace of humor, only cool acceptance. “You’re weird, you know that?” Asra mused with a fascinated smile. Impulsively, he hooked a few of his fingers with Nilam’s. “Maybe that’s why I like you so much.”

Nilam jolted them to a stop and stared at Asra for a few seconds before snapping out of it. “Just to be clear, when you say you like me…” He looked down at their tangled fingers. “You mean, um…”

“You didn’t figure that out already?”

“Well, I…” Nilam tentatively laced his fingers with Asra’s. “I might’ve hoped.” He gave him a small, shy smile. “And I take it you figured out I like you too?”

“I definitely hoped,” Asra teased and nudged Nilam with his elbow, fingers fully entwined. “I’m curious though, why’d you suddenly get all timid? What happened to the guy making sex jokes with crab legs?”

Nilam rubbed at the back of his neck. “This might surprise you, but I don’t usually take a liking to people very fast, even just platonically. And with you… I _really_ like you, Asra, and it came on so, _so_ fast… I guess it kinda freaked me out a bit when I was directly confronted with it. It’s been a long time since I’ve met a person I even wanted to be actual _friends_ with, let alone…” So _that’s_ what was bothering him earlier.

“But with your charity stuff, doesn’t that kinda require you to like people?”

“Well, yeah, kinda, but also kinda not. And it’s not so much black-and-white ‘I Do Like People,’ ‘I Don’t Like People,’ you know? It’s more complicated than that. It’s like… I care about humanity, obviously, but I also kinda hate them on the principle that, as a whole, humans are pricks. _BUT_ , I’m strongly driven to help people and love doing it and enjoy getting to know the clients- Agh!”

“You’re rambling, Nilam,” Asra gently interrupted. “Are you always a chatterbox when you’re nervous?” He gave Nilam’s hand a comforting squeeze.

“Sometimes, yeah,” Nilam laughed sheepishly, “Sorry.”

“Nothing to apologize for. I actually think it’s kinda cute.” Asra gave him a teasing wink. “But, um… Do you want to try summarizing that word salad, or should we move on?”

“Yeah, I got it. I know what I want to say, just the words aren’t working. Give me a moment to get my thoughts translated.” Nilam closed his eyes firmly, for quite a while, actually. After several seconds, Asra started gently swinging their linked hands while he waited. “Right. I think I have it. Essentially, I have a love-hate relationship with humanity as a whole, and while most individuals are actually fine, I tend to keep people at arm’s length until and unless I allow them closer, which is… rare. I just can’t get emotionally invested in everybody I talk to more than once.” Nilam took a deep breath and continued, “And I guess all this freaked me out because we met once a few days ago and now, well... look.” He gestured between them.

“I think I get it. And frankly, I don’t want to rush things either, so… let’s not. We can take our time. What’s the rush, right?”

Nilam’s smile broadened. “Right. Anything worth doing is worth doing well.

“And good things are worth waiting for.” Asra swung around in front of Nilam and gently took his free hand. “But for tonight, let’s indulge a little and have fun, okay? Just whatever feels right.”

“That sounds great, Asra.”

“Good.” Asra grinned wickedly. “Then come catch me!” He bolted off into the maze, laughing like a fox, with Nilam playing the hound not far behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments, questions, and constructive criticism is always welcomed!


	4. Sign Here

As always, the marketplace was loud and lively. Asra picked his way down the main street, following the crude map Nilam drew for him.

“Let’s see… market… go south… south-west side of street…” He looked up from his map and peered through the never-ending stream of people, hoping to spot the Houbimas’ shop. Didn’t Nilam say their name was on the sign out front? Asra checked the map again. Surely he should have found it but now.

Time for Plan B. Asra looked around for a friendly-looking vendor. “Excuse me,” he said as he approached a nearby flower-seller, “Could you help me? I think I might’ve gotten a bit turned around.”

“‘Course, kiddo. Whatcha lookin’ for?”

“It’s a magic shop, owned by Zila Houbima. Do you know it?”

The vendor tapped their chin in thought. “I know th’ name, but I dunno the shop. ‘Fraid I’m no good at magic m’self. Bet somebody sellin’ herbs or somethin’ like that might know.” They nodded toward one of the sidestreets. “Try m’friend Evon, down thataway. Says magician types come by him a lot.”

“Great, thanks. What’s he sell?”

“Crystals ‘n’ whatnot, funny bits ‘n’ bobs. Real funny. You’ll know ‘im when you see ‘im.”

Asra thanked the flower-seller again and set off to find the crystal stall. Fortunately, it didn’t take long. It was… eye-catching, to put it diplomatically. He repeated his request for assistance with much more success. Evon was able to point him in the right direction. Turns out Asra had gone a couple blocks too far. He backtracked up the street with a better idea of what he was looking for. Evon described a white-stuccoed timber framed building on the corner, with a sunken door and a rectangular wooden sign (in dire need of some fresh paint) hanging from some ironwork. A few minutes of architectural analysis later, Asra spotted the shop he was looking for.

No wonder he hadn’t spotted it. The sign was faded from sun and dirty with street dust, so much that the neatly painted ‘Houbima Apothecary’ was barely legible. He climbed up the very short steps and paused just before reaching for the handle. If this is their home, maybe he should announce himself before going in? But it’s a business too, so… But what if one of them is having a sensitive conversation with a patient and he violates their privacy? Erring on the side of safety, Asra raised his hand to knock on the door and -

“You know you don’t have to knock at a shop right?”

Asra jumped and spun around with a yelp, “Nilam!” The other boy laughed and Asra punched him lightly on the shoulder. “You scared me, you jerk!” He couldn’t fight his smile for long.

“So you gonna go inside, or are you good with hanging out on the porch?”

“Oh! Right.” Asra pushed the door open with the jingle of a brass bell. Nilam walked in after Asra and set his leather messenger bag on the counter.

“Auntie! I’m back!” Nilam called up the stairs, “Asra’s here too!”

“I’ll be down in a moment!” Zila called back, muffled by the door.

Nilam returned to the counter, removing a handful of small items from his bag and started setting up for the business day. “You’re welcome to sit down if you like,” Nilam offered and motioned to the plushly cushioned bench along the wall across from the counter, “Or you can have a look around. Just try not to mix things up too much, kay?”

“Yeah, of course.” Asra wandered, not that there was far to go. The shop was compact, but nice and organized. The shelves were neatly stocked with all sorts of trinkets, bottles of what he assumed to be medicines, and some things Asra couldn’t identify if you paid him. “What _is_ all this stuff?”

Nilam glanced up to see what Asra was looking at. “In the bottles?”

“Just… all of it. I’ve never even seen some of these things before.”

Nilam chuckled, “You’ll learn in time. Don’t worry.” He set down what he was working on and joined Asra by the shelf he was browsing. “All these tinctures and stuff in the bottles are treatments for your everyday ailments. Some of the more… old-fashioned folks tend to call them ‘potions,’ and I guess they’re not _completely_ wrong, but it’s antiquated terminology. These,” Nilam picked up an odd little ornament made of sticks and woven plants, “Are typically charms or wards against this or that, depending on the materials you use, the spells you weave in, et cetera. And these-”

“You’re not _already_ bombarding the poor boy with lessons, are you Ni?” Zila chided as she descended the stairs.

“He was the one who asked.” Nilam returned the ward to its place.

“I know, I know. I’m just teasing.” Zila rounded the corner, carrying a tray with three steaming mugs of fragrant tea. “Are you boys thirsty?” Both accepted a mug and muttered their thanks. “Nilam, dear, are we ready to open?”

“Yeah, just about. Want me to light the lantern?”

“If you wouldn’t mind. And could you work the counter for a bit? I’d like to show you friend a few things.” Zila laid a hand on Asra’s shoulder.

“Sure. I’ll start on today’s orders.” Nilam stepped outside to light the red lantern up beside the corner of the door, then stationed himself behind the counter to start the day’s work. Passersby, the Houbima Apothecary is ready for business. 

“Asra, if you please, come with me,” Zila guided him into a little room in the back, hidden behind a heavy reddish curtain. It didn’t seem to have a designated purpose beyond storing books, documents, and a small round table.

“What’s this room for?”

“At the moment, not much. We mostly use it as a study of sorts, somewhere quiet to read, do paperwork, whatever we need really.” She pulled a mismatched pair of cushioned stools out from under the table and searched through the tidy stacks of books. “Please, have a seat.” Asra sat, watching her hunt for whatever it was she wanted: A book bound in dark leather; a few sheets of paper; pen and inkpot; another book, smaller and bound in blue canvas.

Zila laid everything out on the table and sat down. “So tell me my boy, what interests you about magic?”

“What do you mean?”

“Sorry, I suppose that was a bit vague,” Zila admitted and tried again, “ _Why_ are you interested? What do you want to learn or aspire to be as a magician?”

“Well…” Asra thought a moment to put his thoughts in order. “I’ve always wanted to learn. Not just magic, but it was always my favorite. My parents taught me some when I was a kid, but I didn’t really get to learn all that much before they… um…”

“If you don’t want to talk about it right now, you don’t have to,” Zila assured him, clearly seeing his discomfort. “But what all did you learn?”

“Pretty much all I remember are things regarding the Arcana and using tarot cards. Not much else.” 

Zila nodded, a pleased glint catching in her dark eyes. “I see… And you’re interested in continuing your education, yes?”

“Absolutely,” he answered with no hesitation.

“Good! And what is it you want to learn?”

What _did_ he want to learn? How could he choose just one topic? There was so much to know. “Everything.”

Zila grinned. “Excellent. In that case, how would you like an apprenticeship?”

Asra blinked. And blinked. “An apprenticeship? With you?”

“I’m not one to turn a promising talent away, but if you’d prefer a different teacher…”

“No! No, I’d love to be your apprentice! But what does that entail?”

Zila counted on her fingers, “Well, you’ll be taught magic by me - and perhaps my nephew sometimes - and you’ll be expected to do some studying on your own, assigned or otherwise. And you also have the opportunity to work here, ensuring a steady job with a decent stipend while you learn. Think of it as a work-study program.”

“You... _you_ would pay _me_ to be _your_ apprentice? Isn’t it usually the other way around?”

Zila shrugged. “Houbimas aren’t known for sticking to convention.” She slid a sheet of paper in front of her. “If you’re sure you want to take up my offer, I can write up a contract now and you can start today. Provided you’re ready, of course.”

“Yes! I want to, please!”

“Wonderful. First lesson: Never agree to anything before a contract is written and _you’ve read it_.” Zila’s eyes crinkled in a foxy smile. She unstoppered her inkpot and started to write. “I’ll have you and Nilam go run some errands for me. While you’re out, I’ll write up a contract and we can go over it together when you get back, alright?” She passed Asra a quickly-written list. Even hastily done, her handwriting was lovely and flowing. “Nilam will show you where to go and introduce you to our regular vendors. Try to make a good impression. It’s important to build strong business relationships in the early days of any career. Remember that.”

She ushered Asra out to the main room and stayed in the back to write up the apprenticeship contract. “So, how’d it go?” Nilam asked from his spot behind the counter. Oh, so he knew Zila was planning something.

“Something tells me you already know how it went.” There was no accusation in his voice, at least not a negative one. “Did you?”

“Perhaps.” Nilam shot him a coy smirk that said he _absolutely_ did. Or… could Nilam have actually been the mastermind of this plot?! Yeah, probably. “Would you believe me if I said the cards told me?” 

Asra raised an eyebrow. “Not even a little bit, no.”

Nilam chuckled and glanced down at the paper in Asra’s hand. “What’s that she gave you?”

“Um… a shopping list, I think. Didn’t you just come back from shopping?”

“Sort of. Wasn’t shop business though.”

Zila poked her head out from behind the curtain. “Nilam, darling, would you go with Asra to ‘show him the ropes,’ so to speak?”

“No problem.” He set down the mortar and pestle and started gathering up his things. “You might want to finish the pastilles I was working on. The mix’ll probably dry out before we get back.”

“Which order?”

“Two and eight. Recipe and ledger’s on the counter.” Nilam slung his bag over his shoulder and the boys ventured out onto the streets once more. “Be back soon, Auntie!”

The streets had already grown busier just in the short time they’d been in the shop. “So, what did my aunt send us out for?”

Asra handed him the list. “Zila said you could show me where to get all this stuff. I don’t even know what most of it is.”

Nilam scanned through the list. “Looks like it’s mostly staples. Nothing too obscure.” The boys headed up the street to the marketplace making friendly conversation as they walked.

“So how’ve you been since the Masquerade? Business been good?”

“Nothing terribly interesting, unfortunately.” Nilam reconsidered. “Actually, in this line of work, that’s probably a good thing. We had _a lot_ of customers coming in with some nasty hangovers, though.”

“You almost sound amused.”

Nilam flashed Asra a grin. “Oh, I find it hilarious. You should hear the ridiculous stories people will spin to explain away how they’re _totally_ not hungover, or coming off a high, or injured from trying to do one of those hip new dance moves the young folk are doing these days.” Asra snickered at his old man impression. “And then there’s the ‘unexplainable rashes.’”

“Rashes?”

“In rather… personal places. People tend to make questionable choices at the Count’s parties.”

“Ohh, that kind of rash.”

“Yep. We see a lot of everything in our shop.”

“Have you ever treated anyone with the Red Plague?”

Nilam went silent and his pale face turned stony. “A few times. Never in person. Plague-bearers have to send a proxy to avoid infecting the shop, and the few times we accepted a house call, Zila insisted I stay behind.”

“Too risky?”

“‘Twelve-year-olds don’t belong near a Plague bed,’ she told me. Risk aside, there’s not much we can do. We can give sufferers a few things to help ease their pain, and for those who want it, we can help them pass. That’s about it.”

What was that expression on his face? Mourning? Bitterness? Anger? On a whim, Asra took Nilam’s hand with a gentle squeeze. “Don’t beat yourself up over it. You do what you can, and that’s enough.” Nilam squeezed back without a word.

The cheerful, lively clamor of the market rattled across the cobblestones, abruptly slicing through the sour mood. Nilam quickly snapped out of it with a shudder. “Sorry ‘bout that. I didn’t mean to be so negative there.”

“It’s okay. I understand,” Asra assured with a smile. That wasn’t _strictly_ speaking true, but he would have plenty of time to figure out Nilam’s brain. Hopefully, anyway. “So how’s this trip going to go? I hope there’s no hazing involved.”

Nilam laughed at the joke. “Nothing too awful, I promise. I’ll introduce you to some people, show you where to go, where _not_ to go. And of course we’ll pick up everything Zila asked for.”

First up was Moren the herb seller. A tall, wiry man, skin turned to leather from too much sun, he spoke to Nilam with the familiarity of an old friend. Before Asra had a chance to wonder how long they’d known each other, Nilam had already tugged him over and begun introductions. While Asra and Moren got to know each other a bit, Nilam filled up a few sachets with the herbs they needed. Once he paid, he wished Moren good fortune, and the boys were off to their next stop.

As he delved deeper into the market, they decided to hold hands. Wouldn’t want to lose each other in the crowd. Nilam steered them up to another booth, this one selling both bolts of new fabric and ready-made clothes. As with Moren, he introduced Asra to the vendor, a northern woman, stout but with the most delicate hands. Lilaine, she said her name was. Nilam asked what she had in stock, hoping for some decent silk thread or fine-weave linen, any color would do. The thread would have to be ordered, but the linen he wanted was in great supply. He selected one bolt of deep navy, and one of a bright saffron yellow.

Then he glanced over at the tables of folded clothes for sale and got an idea. “Asra, why don’t you pick out a shirt or tunic you like?

“For what? I have a couple already.”

“Wouldn't it be nice to have a nice new one now you’re about to _officially_ be an apprentice magician? New job, new teacher, new chapter of your life… why not tie it off with some new clothes you feel good wearing? Maybe something you’ve always wanted to wear.”

“I don’t know,” he mumbled, “Good clothes can be expensive-”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m buying.” Asra tried to protest, but Nilam stopped him, “No buts. Consider it a gift, as thanks for the gorgeous mask you gave me.”

“But that was a gift thanking _you!_ ”

There was that clever-fox grin again. It must be hereditary. “Well, maybe there’s a little more to it.” So that’s how he wants to play.

“I know what you’re doing, you cheeky little bastard,” Asra grinned with a challenging glare. 

Nilam donned his fakest innocent face. “I haven’t a clue what you’re talking about, Asra.”

“Uh-huh, of course you don’t.” He ultimately gave in to Nilam’s demand and browsed around Lilaine’s booth for something he liked. Out of the corner of his eye, he was fairly sure he caught her snickering and quietly teasing Nilam, who replied with a back-handed smack on her shoulder. The tips of his ears burned a bit. He had a pretty good idea what Lilaine what teasing about. It’s not like she was wrong.

Lilaine’s clothes really were of good quality, Asra noticed as he felt some of the tunics on display. All her seamwork was clean and sturdy, and the fabrics she used felt like they could last for decades. A good number even had neat beadwork or embroidery on the collars and sleeves. But the prices… How long could he feed himself for that?

In the market’s racket, he almost didn’t hear Nilam’s heavy boots behind him. “Having trouble?”

“Kind of, yeah.”

Nilam reached past him and picked out a rich blue tunic. “I bet this color would look good on you.”

Asra didn’t disagree. It was a lovely shade of sapphire he’d seen many times and always wanted to wear, but that particular dye tended to be a bit expensive. The decorative borderwork would probably jack up the price too. “It _is_ nice…” He checked the tag pinned to the sleeve. That was enough for him to eat for a week! “It’s just too spendy. Something plain would be fine… Maybe indigo, that dye is pretty cheap if I recall-”

“Asra, I told you not to worry about it. The price doesn’t matter right now,” Nilam reminded him. “Pick what you _like_. Whatever you would really feel good in. Anything you want.”

“I don’t want to be a bur-”

“You’re not. It really isn’t a big deal. Let me do nice things.”

“Are you always this aggressively generous?”

“You’ll just have to stick around and find out,” Nilam purred with an audible grin, “Now pick something, or I get to pick for you.” Oh no. What a terrible fate. Asra succumbed and gave the display another comb-through. Ultimately, he found himself returning to the tunic Nilam had chosen. Boy had a good eye.

The senior apprentice paid Lilaine for their goods and the boys bid her good-day, returning to the busy street. Nilam guided Asra around to several more stands, booths, carts, plus the odd shop every now and then, making a point to introduce Asra at every stop. Let’s see…

There was Nedson the butcher; Mandelli, purveyor of crystals and fine stones; Juburo, the bookseller; Flavié the grocer, and probably half a dozen more. Good gods, does Nilam know everyone here? Oh, right. He’s done this for years.

“Aaand, I think that’s everything,” Nilam announced with a final look at their shopping list, “Wanna grab a quick lunch on the way back?”

“Sure, what’s around?”

“Let’s see… There’s a good bakery another block down. I think Natalio’s pitta stand should be open by now. There’s also-” Something in his periphery caught Nilam’s attention and he jolted with an excited gasp. “Shinies!”

“Wha- Ack!” Nilam dragged Asra along like a hound after a cat until they were on the other side of the crowded plaza in front of a jeweler’s stall.

“Baskin! You son of a bitch, where you been?” Nilam greeted the new merchant loudly with a forceful handshake-hug.

“Everywhere you’re not, y’ no-good witch! Whatcha been up to?”

“Usual stuff, mainly,” Nilam shrugged, “Not much you haven’t heard about before.”

“Yeah, sure. ‘Nothin’ to see here,’ right? What about the Masquerade? You go this year?”

“‘Course. And I take it you were conveniently out of town?”

Baskin scoffed, “‘Zif I’d go to anything that blow-hard does. You know I ‘aven’t gone since I was nine.”

“Eh, you’re a buzzkill anyway.”

While the two (presumably) old friends sassed at each other, Asra occupied himself by perusing Baskin’s displays of ‘Shinies.’ Finished pieces were few and far between, vastly outnumbered by long strings of colorful beads, trays of loose pendants, and cords and glittering chains draped over a cylindrical stand. He was pleasantly surprised at the high quality of Baskin’s wares. Either the guy was a talented craftsman in his own right, or he had an excellent eye for jewelry.

“Somethin’ catch your eye, Fluff ‘n’ Stuff?”

“Baskin!”

“What? He _is_ fluffy.”

“You and I both know that’s not what that means.”

“I got no idea what you’re talkin’ about.”

Nilam groaned and muttered something under his breath. “Whatever. Baskin, this is Asra, my new… friend.”

Asra gave Baskin a little wave. “Hi.”

The young merchant did a quick once-over of Asra and looked back at Nilam with a sly grin. “‘Friend,’ huh?”

“Something like that.”

“Uh-huh. Sure.”

“Hey, I don’t need shit from you. My aunt has that covered.” Nilam quickly changed the subject, “So whatcha got for me?”

“I don’t have anything _for_ _you_. If you wanna _buy_ something, though…”

“I repeat, whatcha got for me?”

Baskin rolled his eyes and beckoned for Nilam to follow him to another of his tables. Asra turned his head to watch them, hoping to see what sort of shinies Baskin was showing Nilam. Unfortunately, humans aren’t see-through. After a few moments, Asra gave up and went back to browsing. A lovely silver brooch set with jade caught his attention. The style was unfamiliar, definitely not Vesuvian. He traced the unending knot with his thumb, feeling the fine engravings etched into the metal. That brooch would have a gorgeous patina someday.

A sudden high cackle startled Asra out of his thoughts and he whipped around. Baskin was nearly doubled over in red-faced hysterics while Nilam stood with his arms crossed, glaring at his friend and _almost_ looking annoyed. “Yeah, yeah, yuck it up, ya dick.”

If anything, Baskin only laughed harder. “Gods, Lammy, you seriously - HAH!” He couldn’t even finish his thought.

“Umm… Should I ask?” Asra looked to Nilam for answers. 

“There’s a reason this jackass only has one friend.”

“You’re one to talk!” Baskin barked between cackles.

“I’ll have you know I have plenty of friends.” Nilam gestured towards Asra. “Oh look, there’s one over there.”

“Boyfriends don’t count.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake…” Nilam pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “So you gonna sell it to me, or should we just leave you to torment somebody else?”

Baskin handed Nilam a small red pouch. “Just take it, mate. That made my goddamn day.”

“Glad my suffering amuses you.” Nilam turned to Asra. “You ready to go, or you find something you want?” He glanced down at the brooch in Asra’s hand.

“Oh, I was just looking around. I thought my friend Muriel might like this.”

“The mask-maker?” Asra nodded. “Baskin, how much for the pin?”

“Pin?” Baskin looked up with watering eyes. “Oh, you uncultured swine. The _brooch_ ’ll be, mmm… 50.”

“45.”

“Deal. Not gonna give you the chance t’ earn more free shit today.”

* * *

The boys bid farewell to Baskin - Or rather, _Asra_ bid farewell while Nilam told him to “Sit on a stick, asshole!” with a jaunty smile. They picked their way back through the market, meandering hand-in-hand toward the main street. 

“So, that was… weird,” Asra said once they’d gone a few blocks.

“I know, sorry.” Nilam pinched and rubbed at his nose . “Baskin is… well, not everyone’s cup of tea.”

“And you said you’re… friends?”

“Yeah, we played together as kids. Didn’t have many other playmates, actually. Most kids in our neighborhood thought I was weird. He was always kind of an abrasive dick, but he’s a good guy.”

Asra’s thoughtful hum was lost in the drone of the crowd. “What’d you get, by the way?”

“Oh, you know, just a trinket,” Nilam shrugged coyly. “And your buddy’s pin.”

“I believe _your_ buddy said it was a _‘brooch.’_ ”

“Yes, right after calling me an ‘uncultured swine.’ I recall.” A thought popped into his head. “Oh, you should bring your friend around sometime. Figure I should get to know him too if you’re gonna be my… ahem. You know. Around.”

Asra gave him a look. “Be your around?” He had to bite back a snicker at Nilam’s red ears. He pouted and good gods, he’s adorable.

“You know what I meant.”

“Do I?” Asra teased, “I’m gonna be your… coworker? Colleague?” Nilam rolled his eyes and Asra continued, “Your peer? Your associate?” Feeling gutsy, he leaned in close to his ear. “Your _boyfriend_ ~?” Nilam’s whole face turned pink - yet again - and his mouth pressed into a flat line. The poor boy really was an open book sometimes. “I’m just teasing,” Asra assured when Nilam was silent for a few seconds too long.

He jolted and his expression returned to normal. “Oh! Yeah, I know. Sorry, I blanked.”

“Did I go too far?”

“No! No, it’s fine, I just…” Nilam halted and squeezed Asra’s palm a little tighter. Asra wondered whether he even meant to do it. “Sometimes I just kinda… forget how to talk... sometimes.” He screwed up his mouth in discomfort, his demeanor rather different than any of their previous talks. Asra squeezed his hand back.

“It’s okay, Nilam. Who isn’t lost for words from time to time?”

“No, I mean… It’s not that I can’t find the right words, they just… don’t work. Like I can’t make them at all, even in my head. Not for long, usually, it just makes things…” He rolled his hand in the air in search of the right phrase and eventually sighed in defeat, “Really damn hard sometimes.”

Asra nodded slowly and thought for a moment, then a small small crept up his face. He knew somebody a bit like that. “I think I understand. I mean, I obviously don’t know what exactly goes on up in there,” Asra wiggled his finger in a loop at Nilam’s head, “But I get it. And who knows, maybe someday I’ll be able to read your mind.” He got a small chuckle out of Nilam and his smile turned into a grin.

“Are you sure you want to?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“Didn’t you know?” Nilam’s face began sliding into that familiar crooked, clever smile. “The minds of magicians can be dangerous places. Not the sort of place you’d want to get lost in alone.”

“Then maybe someday you can give me a tour.”

“I think I could do that. How about we wrap this one up with something to eat? I’ll show you that pitta place I was talking about. Don’t worry, work pays for lunch!” He towed Asra away before he had a moment to protest.

Oh well. He could get used to letting Nilam spoil him a little bit. He’ll just have to figure out how to get back at him.

The door bell jingled as the boys returned to the shop, Nilam’s bag full of goods. Zila stood at the counter, partway through a conversation with a customer. “Ah, welcome back boys! What excellent timing. Nilam, Mrs. Amin is here for you.” 

Without missing a beat, he jumped back into professional mode, letting go of Asra’s hand with a last little squeeze. “Of course. Welcome back, ma’am. How is your son doing?”

Asra watched Nilam, perhaps a little more fascinated than he needed to be. But he seemed so intelligent, so practiced, so sure standing behind that counter. Whether it was true or not, he had the air of a man with all the answers, learned and experienced, not a mere boy of sixteen. 

So distracted was he that he didn’t notice Zila until her hand was on his shoulder. He bit back a yelp. “Ready to continue our discussion, dear?” Asra nodded and followed her back to their seats in the back room. Zila’s big leather tome and blue notebook were still out at her spot, and for Asra awaited a small stack of books, a pale grey quill, and a completed contract. She settled herself on her cushioned stool and neatened her shawl. “Did you boys have a nice outing?”

“Oh, yes,” Asra mumbled as he sat down, “Nilam introduced me to lots of nice new people.”

Zila nodded. “Good. Be sure to foster those relationships. A good rapport can make or break a business.” She cracked her ledger open and gestured at Asra’s contract. “Have a read through that, dear. Make sure everything sounds agreeable.”

It wasn’t the most fascinating read, to be honest. It’s a contract. It explained both parties’ responsibilities, what he could expect in return, and a bunch of legalese Zila assured him was purely standard, nothing to concern himself over. “What about this here; ‘Provide room and board for the Pupil if circumstances require?’”

“Oh, it used to be quite common for apprentices to be brought into their master’s household. It’s not so en vogue these days, but as practical as ever.” 

“That doesn’t… Are you saying I can live here?”

Zila nodded with a smile. “If you need it, we could figure something out. But if I may ask, what does your current situation look like?”

“I’ve got a place to sleep at night, if that’s what you mean. My friend and I have a little place over in South End.”

“And you feel safe there? Your needs are met well enough?”

“Well… Probably not, to be honest, but it’s better than anything we had even a couple years ago. I can’t complain too much. And it’s a pretty safe spot, as far as things go.”

“That’s good. But do keep a nose out for mold over there. Poor maintenance means the buildings down in South End are lousy with rot.” Her nose wrinkled a little at the thought. “Awful for your health.” More than happy with the terms, Asra signed his name on the second line at the bottom of the contract and passed it back to Zila. She squinted at his signature for a moment as though she wasn’t sure she read it right, then shrugged, added her own signature, and filed it away. Asra made a mental note to work on his penmanship.

Zila - she scoffed at the notion of being called ‘Master’ - went over the books she’d selected for Asra; _The Apothecary’s Guide to Natural Medicine_ , _A Practical Guide to Mundane and Magical Medicine_ , and _Arcane Foundations_ . Figures the magic textbook would have the simplest title. He was to read at least one chapter of _Arcane Foundations_ per week, ideally multiple times, and 10-30 pages from each medical guide per day. Notes are always a good idea, and if he has questions or something he doesn’t understand, he should feel free to ask her, though she made a point to emphasize the power of a scholarly chat between peers. With a conspiratorial wink, Zila dismissed Asra to shadow Nilam up front.

The afternoon sun cast the window’s colorful patterns across Nilam’s ledger as he ground away at the mortar.“So? Did you give her your soul?”

“I hope not. I was saving that for making deals with demons.”

“Well, we magicians are a crafty sort.” Nilam joked, “Need it to ensorcell all those fair damsels.”

“I’m rather looking forward to bewitching myself a handsome prince.” Asra leaned against the counter and watched Nilam work. Boy sure had some strong hands… “I could make him the world’s most dashing amphibian.”

“Is that so?” Nilam chuckled and his eyes caught a glint in the colored light. “I suppose I’ll just have to enchant you first.”


	5. Wanna Go on a Date?

Zila leaned out the window overlooking her modest garden. Asra and her dear Nilam were down below, drying the linens with a handy little charm she taught her boy long ago. She smiled. He’d practically mastered the simple spell, and now there he was, teaching it to someone new. And then there was Asra.

Not just a pretty face, her new apprentice gobbled up information like no one she’d ever known, save for the ever-hungry puppy she had as a child. No matter how much you fed her, Puppy would still want more. In just a few weeks of study, he was already grasping material most students wouldn’t even consider touching for another year. No wonder Nilam liked him.

“Hey Asra, check this out!” Nilam waved his hands around over the washtub until a small orb of water formed over his palm. Zila saw it, but Asra was too enthralled with the water ball to notice Nilam’s shit-eating grin.

 _*Splish!*_ Asra blinked in shock as he dripped and Nilam cackled. He sputtered in protest and dove for the tub, scooping up water in his hands to fling in retribution. Zila laughed and left them to chase each other around the garden, choosing instead to lounge on her bed with a good book and better tea. Ah, yes. This is what Sundays were for.

* * *

Eventually the boys ran out of steam and flopped down beside each other in the little flagstone courtyard to let the sun dry their wet clothes. It was still early enough that the stones were just pleasantly warm, not yet hot enough to burn. 

Nilam sighed and enjoyed basking in the gentle morning light. “Your aim sucks.”

“You can’t dodge for shit.” The boys looked at each other and laughed. Neither was quite sure why, yet they kept laughing until it died down into low, soft chuckles. “I don’t know what’s so funny.”

“Eh. Doesn’t matter,” Nilam mumbled as he rolled onto his side. His arm came to rest across Asra’s waist.

Asra studied Nilam’s face. He never got tired of all the colors in his eyes. “You look like you have something to say,” he observed before he even realized he spoke.

Nilam shuffled nervously. “That obvious, am I?”

“Should I be worried?”

“No, um… I was- That is… Agh!” Nilam cursed Words, made a face, and carried on, “Would, um… wouldyouliketogoonadatelater..?”

Asra blinked. “One more time, a little slower?”

Nilam enunciated carefully, “Would you like to go on a date later? With me?” His voice wavered in spots.

Asra stifled a laugh, “What, you expect me to say no? Did I not make it clear I’m super into you?” He took on a catty grin and dragged a fingernail up Nilam’s arm. “Or have I been too subtle?” 

He broke his gaze from Asra’s to inspect the flagstones. “Well, I… Things can change. Didn’t want to assume, I suppose.”

“Well _I_ have been waiting to go on a real date with you since the Masquerade. So what do you think, smart guy?”

Nilam looked back up and beamed. “I think I ought to change into something a little more suitable, don’t you?” Asra looked down in appraisal at the damp, dark cotton tunic clinging to Nilam’s skin. No, this was good. Quite good indeed. But Asra stayed quiet and Nilam got up to head inside for a change of clothes. In the meantime, Asra sat up, dusted himself off, and dried his own clothes as well as he could with that nifty drying spell. Even if his place had been near enough to warrant walking over and changing outfits, he was already wearing his better tunic; the handsome blue one Nilam bought him. Once he was satisfied, Asra meandered his own way back inside and puttered about the shop, mostly eyeing up the books to see if there might be something he’d like to learn about.

“See something you like?”

Asra made a most dignified yip and spun around to face Nilam, looking absolutely dashing in green and black. Asra looked at him, then at the stairs, then at him, then at the stairs. “How did you-? The stairs, they… So creaky!”

Nilam nodded solemnly. “They so creaky indeed.”

“But you… I should’ve heard you come down!”

He shrugged. “Dunno what to tell you.” That little smirk says otherwise. “I know I said ‘go on a date later,’ but we have the whole day off, and I let Zila know we were going… you know… out, so… Sooner rather than later?”

Asra tapped his chin. “Hm… I had some rather pressing appointments, but…” he shrugged, “They can wait.” He took Nilam’s hand with a skip and a grin. “Where to, handsome stranger?”

Nilam led them out the door and down the street (though they were stopped a few meters out the door by an ailing local seeking medicine. Of course, Nilam went back to fetch it for them, even though the shop was technically closed). They walked at a leisurely stroll, chatting and joking all the while. Nilam never said where they were going, but between the good company, good conversation, and weirdly interesting facts about the local architecture, Asra was utterly unbothered by the unclear destination. Who cared where they were going? 

They stopped on the bridge crossing into the Temple District (One of the prettiest in Vesuvia, and did you know it was carved from a single piece of stone? And look at all the beautiful engravings!), watching the boats float down the canal while the gondoliers sang to their passengers.

“Have you ever done that?” Asra asked as another young couple drifted away under the bridge.

“Done what? Driven a gondola or ridden in one?”

“Ridden in one.”

“Oh, sure. Mostly when I was little and walking me all over the city was a pain. These days I prefer to walk, most of the time. We only get boats for special occasions and whatnot.” Nilam looked at Asra and brushed a stray curl out of his eyes, catching a sunbeam and lighting up like the purple jewels littering the windowsill back home. “Have you?”

Asra shook his head. “Too expensive. We always had to save our money for necessities, so we could never justify hiring a boat when we could walk perfectly well. Besides, Muriel doesn’t really fit in most boats anymore.”

Nilam raised an eyebrow. Most gondolas were made to carry three or four passengers. “Big guy.”

“You’ve got no idea. But um, when you meet him, try not to mention it. He’s a bit… you could call it shy. He doesn’t like sticking out.”

Nilam nodded and thought for a moment. “I think I might know of a little charm that might help with that. Saw it in a book somewhere. I’ll check our library when we get home.”

Asra smiled. “You really can’t help yourself, can you?”

“From what?”

“Helping. Fixing other people’s problems.”

“Well, I mean… it’s my job,” Nilam shrugged, “Might as well have been born to do it.”

“That doesn’t mean you can’t let me return the favor sometime. I’ve been keeping score, by the way. If you don’t let me do something nice for you for once, I think it might throw something cosmic out of whack.” He opened his mouth to protest, but Asra started listing things on his fingers. “You feed all the kids, you fed me, you got me a job, you bought me clothes, got that nice pin for Muriel - who you’ve never even met, by the way - Shall I continue?”

“Guess I can be a little bit… a lot, can’t I?” Nilam chuckled, though at the end it almost sounded pained. “I know I go a little overboard sometimes, but-”

“That’s not what I said,” Asra said gently and pulled Nilam into a loose embrace. “You’re wonderful, Ni. You’re kind, and giving, and selfless. I love those things about you, but you don’t have to be everyone’s hero all the time. You deserve a bit of spoiling too, you know.”

The corner of Nilam’s mouth twitched up. “I’m not a hero, Asra.”

“Hero-in-Training, then. Why, I bet you’ll even save the world one day.”

Nilam snorted. “Not so sure about that.”

“We’ll see.” It was a little bold, but Asra hugged Nilam tight, turning his head to rest it on his shoulder. “I know you’ll do great things someday.”

“It’s really nothing special…” Nilam mumbled and relaxed into the hug. Asra felt the pulse in Nilam’s pale neck racing, and his skin turned hot. “You… I… Don’t make me go all red…”

Asra pulled away and laughed. “Seems it’s a bit late for that.” From the tips of his ears down past the strip of skin peeking through the slit of his tunic, he’d turned an astonishing shade of scarlet. “Why don’t we carry on? Unless you just wanted to talk about bridges and history and look at gondolas?”

“No, no. ‘Ve got far more interesting things on the itinerary,” Nilam chuckled and shook his head. “Unless you prefer the history.”

Asra took hold of Nilam’s hand with a grin. “Lead on, gorgeous.”

The pair scampered off the other end of the bridge and Nilam led Asra down a few blocks until they stood in the shadow of the grand archway into the Temple District.

“I didn’t take you for a religious man,” Asra teased.

“Wouldn’t call myself one,” Nilam shrugged as he admired the arch. “To me, religion requires blind faith, and you can’t really have that when you know the being in question actually exists.”

“But you do worship gods?”

“I have been known to perform rites and traditions associated with particular spiritual beings, yes. Whether or not you’d call ‘em _gods_ , well… it’s a bit of a subjective term.”

“What would _you_ call them?”

Nilam shrugged. “Spirits, deities, entities... Depends a bit on context.”

Asra supposed that made sense. Kind of.

“Look, my family’s weird. ‘Conventional’ has never been used to describe one of us.”

“Who would ever dare insult you like that?”

Nilam chuckled mirthlessly and flashed his teeth. “Yeah, they usually went for other sore spots.”

“What?”

“Ah! Here we are.” Nilam diverted Asra’s attention to a row of handsome marble pillars standing guard outside a walled temple garden. “House of Phoebus and Hyakintos.”

Asra recognized both of the names, but he could have sworn the latter was some kind of flower. “It is,” Nilam chirped, “It was named after him. Come inside, I’ll tell you the story.”

The boys joined the lazy stream of people entering the temple - most if not all couples, if body language was anything to go by. “They were lovers, you see,” Nilam began, “So the story always goes…” They toured the gardens, Nilam narrating the tale depicted in mosaics and frescoes and statues. Phoebus was the golden-haired god of music, healing, poetry, and the sun, amongst many, _many_ other things. Bit of an overachiever, really. Anyway, he fell in love with the young, beautiful, mortal prince Hyakintos. The young prince returned the god’s affections, and their love was said to be so true and deep as to make the most hardened warrior shed a tear for its purity - yes, that’s how it was worded in the texts, quit snickering - But alas, though Phoebus was the only one desired by Hyakintos, he was not the only one to desire the prince. A wind from the east, quick-tempered and selfish, saw the lovers in a field, throwing a discus. Desiring the prince for his own, the jealous zephyr changed the winds to send Phoebus’s throw astray and humiliate him. The discus flew and flew, then circled ‘round to strike poor Hyakintos dead. Where his blood touched the earth, blue flowers bloomed, each petal inscribed with the sound Phoebus cried out as he held his dead lover.

They ended their garden tour in front of an exquisite marble statue illustrating this final moment, the anguish on Phoebus’s face almost lifelike as Hyakintos lay limp in his arms. “...And now couples come to their temples to ask for blessings and whatnot.”

“What a sad story.”

“I know. Bit of a depressing pick for a lovers’ temple, isn’t it?”

Asra hummed in agreement. “What exactly is their blessing supposed to do?”

“Depends. Every relationship is different, so it’s hard to say. Still, it’s a popular way to, um… officialize a relationship, in a way. Show you’re serious and all that.”

Asra wrapped his arms around Nilam’s waist with a smile. “So you’re serious about us, huh?”

“Can’t think of any reason I shouldn’t be,” Nilam joked, “Unless there’s something I ought to know about?”

“Only that you’re a wonderful story-teller.”

“That was nothing. You should get Zila going sometime. She’s the best at stories.”

“I don’t know… You’ve got such a nice voice…” Asra gave Nilam a squeeze. “Maybe I should have you read me my textbooks. I’d never lose focus.”

“Or you’d be endlessly distracted, more likely,” Nilam teased.

“Have you no faith in me?”  
“Sure I do. But I know I’m a tricky little shit sometimes, and I find it quite fun to push your buttons.” He pressed the pads of his fingers into Asra’s sides in a little pattern. The other boy giggled at the ticklish touches and the little dimple on his left cheek made an appearance. _Gods,_ he was so damn _cute_. Nilam found his hand cupping Asra’s jaw, his thumb absently tracing the line of his lower lip while he admired the curves of his face and the reddish tinge blooming across his cheeks. “Why Asra, you weren’t wearing rouge when we left home,” he teased.

Asra seemed to lean into his touch. Their eyes locked together, Nilam’s heavy and mossy, Asra’s wide and shining violet. Nilam’s head twitched, ever-so-slightly tugging him forward. Was he…? Was it…? He was gonna-

“Have you two been helped today?”

The boys flung each other apart and gawked red-faced at the squat little person smiling at them like he hadn’t totally just cockblocked a pair of teenagers trying to have their first kiss. He rather resembled a mole, with friendly little eyes and tiny, close-packed features on a large round face. His hands clasped together politely in front of his baggy robe in wait.

“Um… We, uh… Not yet, no?” Nilam stammered.

“Are you young folks here to bless your union?”

Nilam and Asra blinked at each other. “Um…” That sounded a euphemism for either marriage or some sort of adults-only ritual. “Well, we… um…” Nilam pointed rapidly between himself and Asra. “We just started dating, see, so I-”

“Worry not, blessing is for couples new and old!” the little priest assured them, “Please, follow me inside.” The boys followed him up the path into the temple proper. The artwork in here put the decor in the garden to shame. Finely-hewn stone, rich, vibrant frescoes, and intricate tapestries adorned everything in sight. The air was thick with sweet, heavy incense.

“So how low have you two been together?” The priest asked as he waddled.

“Well, this is our first real date,” Asra answered and gave Nilam a look. _This is a little weird, right?_

Nilam shrugged, looking just as bewildered. _Maybe. Just go with it I guess?_

The little man clapped. “Oh, congratulations! And how did you meet?”

“At, uh… Well, it was at the beach a few months ago, and-”

“Ah! Such a romantic spot. So picturesque.”

“...Yeah. Anyway, I saw him with this big gaggle of homeless kids-”

“Oh, nothing like a man who’s good with kids to pull at the heartstrings, is there?”

“I suppose. So um… I went over and said ‘hi’ and helped him feed the kids, and that’s how we met.”

“Oh, so sweet! I remember in my day…” The boys looked at each other. Figures they’d get a chatterbox. With mirrored smiles, they shrugged. It wasn’t hurting anyone.

Eventually they were seated in a deep alcove with instructions to wait. The High Priest would be out shortly. Once their escort left, the boys surveyed the hall. The walls were studded with little alcoves like theirs, most of which were also filled by other couples presumably awaiting their blessings.

“So how does this work, exactly?” Asra asked as he settled into the loveseat.

“Frankly, no idea.”

“Haven’t you done this before?”

Nilam raised an eyebrow. “What? What gave you that idea?”

The tips of Asra’s ears burned. “Well, I thought… I figured you’ve… been with other people before…”

“Oh.” Nilam’s face turned scarlet. “Well, I mean… I’ve been… _romantically involved_ a couple times,” Nilam confessed, “Sorta. I, uh… I had a weird fling with another guy a while ago, but that was pretty short-lived, and I dated a girl once upon a time and, um…” He coughed into his hand and crossed his arms. “Yeah, that’s it. Never bothered doing something like this with either of ‘em.”

“What happened to the girlfriend?”

Nilam winced. “She… it didn’t go well. Shoulda seen it coming, I guess, but… yeah. I broke it off and’ve done my best to forget about her.” He adjusted his arms and straightened his sleeveless coat.

“What was her name?” he prodded.

“Not worth remembering,” Nilam sighed, nestling back into the seat and deftly changing the subject, “I don’t want to think about her. I’m more interested in what sort of blessings to pray for.”

“What do you- I thought you said it was random.”

“No, I said it’s hard to predict because every relationship needs something different. And each individual needs something different. The same blessing wouldn’t be helpful across the board.”

“Huh. I guess that makes sense. Didn’t realize it could be so… nebulous.”

“People are complicated,” Nilam shrugged and draped his arm around Asra’s shoulders. “So in that vein, before the show starts, tell me; what’re you worried about?”

“I’m not worried,” Asra chirped, “I think this’ll be nice.”

Nilam shook his head. “Not about the ceremony. I mean about Us. Potential hurdles.”

“Oh… I...” Asra looked down at his hands and rested his head on Nilam. “Well...I guess I worry I don’t have anything to offer you.” He continued before Nilam could say he didn’t need Asra to offer him things, “I don’t just mean the gifts and stuff. I mean more... fundamentally. And I can’t help but wonder sometimes if I’ll wind up just being some flight of fancy for you, or-” He bit his tongue.

“Or a charity case?” Something in his voice told him it wasn’t the first time Nilam heard such a suggestion. “Asra, I promise, you are not, and will never be a mere charity case to me. I mean, sure, if you need help I’ll give it, but… That’s secondary. I’m not… I don’t want to date you to… shit, I don’t know, feel needed? Whyever people do that. I... I _like you_ , and I care about you, so I…” he lost his words and gave up, gesturing to the room. “Well, here we are.”

Asra’s insides churned nervously. “Really?”

“I’m a magpie. Not a sugar daddy.”

An incredibly unattractive bark-laugh ripped from Asra’s mouth and he slapped his hand over his mouth as it echoed around the hall. He swallowed his laughter and choked out, “Good to know.” Asra noticed the tightness of Nilam’s tiny smile. “But, um… What about you? Are you… worrying about things?”

Nilam’s mouth flattened and shifted about his face. “I guess… well...I worry I won’t be enough for you.”

Asra’s brows furrowed. “Meaning what?”

“I-” He glanced away, “I don’t really know. It’s just a… a something I can’t ever quite get all the way out of my head. About anyone, frankly.”

Asra frowned. “That sounds… painful.” 

Nilam shrugged, feigning indifference. “I’m used to it. And at least I’m never surprised anymore when someone doesn’t want me.” Asra’s eyebrow shot up, but he quickly righted it. There’s a talk for another time.

Asra gently grabbed Nilam’s hand. “You’ll always be enough. Anyone who suggests otherwise isn’t worth you.” Nilam almost looked like he wanted to argue. Asra stared at him out the tops of his eyes. “You gonna disagree with me?”

Nilam sighed and smiled. “No. I won’t.”

“Good. You’re learning.”

A dull boom rippled through the hall and everyone’s heads turned to the great metal doors behind the dais. A small procession followed behind a handsome man in his late thirties, dressed in a more opulent version of the other priests’ robes with a fetching purplish stole about his shoulders. The two priests waving censers quietly took up their positions at the front corners of the platform, with the High Priest standing front-and-center flanked by two handsome youths carrying heavily-decorated golden bowls. “Welcome all, to the House of Hyakintos.” The High Priest’s voice rang out like a bell, “If you wish your union blessed, may you step forth and be anointed.” 

The hall stirred to life as couples rose from their sofas and meandered two-by-two (or the occasional three) to line up before the dais. The first pair in line knelt before the High Priest, who spoke something quietly to them. The youths dipped their fingertips into the bowls and touched their faces, and that seemed to be that. The couple got up and left, and the cycle continued. Nilam and Asra joined the queue, holding hands. It was a bit of a wait to reach the front of the line.

When it was their turn, the boys knelt. Asra quickly whispered to the High Priest, “Excuse me, are we supposed to do anything? We’ve never…”

The priest gave them a kind smile. “Fret not. You must only keep your wishes and worries in your mind, and the gods will hear you.” Asra nodded and closed his eyes as the priest droned words over them, heavy purple smoke from the censers drifting around his nose. He thought intensely about what he wanted between him and Nilam, and though he couldn’t quite put all of it into words, he knew he wanted them to be happy together. He wanted to make _him_ happy. The youth in front of him pressed two fingertips to his forehead and his lips, leaving two shiny dots of flowery holy oil. As soon as it touched his skin, it seemed to grow strangely, pleasantly warm.

He opened his eyes and looked over at Nilam, still staring at the back of his eyelids with his head bowed. _I wonder what he’s praying for,_ Asra thought as the other youth dotted Nilam’s face with holy oil and his eyes blinked open. The priest said some words over them - though neither really listened - then it was done. Nilam - his _boyfriend!_ \- took his hand and strolled back out through the garden, a pair of big stupid grins on their faces.

* * *

Their stomachs starting to rumble, the boys picked up some meat-filled rolls for their lunch and found a large fountain to sit on while they ate.

“So what’d you think of the temple thing?” Nilam asked between bites.

“It was... interesting. I’ve never really participated in any ceremonies. Are they all like that?”

“More or less,” Nilam nodded, “Kinda thought it’d be a bit more complex, to be honest. Maybe they simplified the ritual since it’s such a popular sect,” he shrugged. “And the speech was a little odd, but maybe it came from a translation. Who knows?”

“Have you been in ceremonies at other temples?”

“Oh, sure. There’s only one temple I visit regularly, but I’ve done rituals at lots of places around here. Sometimes they hire me or Zila to help run them if they’re doing something particularly magic-heavy.” He took another large bite of his roll. “Wan’ me to show you my temple?”

“I’m game.” They stuffed the remainder of their meals down their gullets and continued on their way. Even outside, wafts of incense and burning herbs clung to the air. It smelled almost homey - not unlike the shop, Asra realized. 

For a while, they stuck to the wide main streets, where the largest, most popular temples stood tall awaiting their parishioners. At a small plaza with a domed fountain, Nilam turned sharply right, then left, then right, zig-zagging through narrower sidestreets until they stood before a small temple, really little more than a chapel. Unlike the grand buildings on the main thoroughfare, this one was relatively plain, favoring simplicity and sturdiness over appearances.

Nilam held the door open and beckoned for Asra to step inside. “After you.”

He acquiesced, immediately struck in the face by a cloud of heavy purple smoke. He sniffed. It smelled like incense, but… different. “What is that?”

“Special blend of incensey type stuff from up north,” Nilam replied quietly, “Don’t actually know what all’s in it.”

“And where… what exactly is this place?”

“Temple to Halama,” Nilam explained and took Asra’s hand to guide him off to an alcove, “My family - my dad’s side, anyway - being a god of magic and medicine, we’ve followed Halama for generations. They say us having their patronage is why we’re so good at what we do.”

“You mean… _All_ of your family are healers?”

“Just about. And magicians, too.”

“And… which came first? Do you follow Halama because you’re magic healers, or are you magic healers because you follow Halama?”

“Well, according to the stories…”

“Do you have a story for everything?”

“There _is_ a story for everything, the question is whether you know it.”

“Okay smart guy. How’s your story go?”

Nilam’s lips twitched. “Well, you see, back before our family had a name, there was a man named Rayar. If memory serves, he was my great-great-great…”

Rayar was part of a nomadic people from the far north-west, beyond Catclaw Desert and the Bulan Mountains. It was not an easy life, and the Old Country was a harsh one for the most part. Rayar was a gentle man, and it caused him great pain to see those around him suffering, friend and stranger alike, but he possessed not the ability to change it.

One night as he lay dreaming, a figure hidden in great swathes of fabric appeared to Rayar, offering him the very knowledge and power he so desired. His children too, could receive the gift, and their children, and their children. In exchange for Halama’s guidance, Rayar and his progeny would do their will in the mortal realms, to preserve life and aid those in need, and in particular to save those who have been cast away.

“And so he did,” Nilam finished suddenly. “And that’s why my family follows Halama.”

“Huh…” Asra furrowed his brows. “So you’re… _obliged_ to take on this job… all because an ancestor of yours made a deal with a god?”

“I mean… not exactly. Once you make the choice to go down that road, you kinda have to uphold the promise, but I’m not, you know… _magically bound_ or anything. I could stop whenever I want.” 

Asra squinted. “That seems contradictory.”

Nilam shrugged, “If you thought people are complicated, spirits are a whole other ball of wax. A bit of advice: don’t get involved with ‘em unless you’re sure you know what you’re doing.”

“Aren’t you involved?”

“Don’t get _directly_ involved,” he amended. “Petitions, contracts, deals… they rarely end well.”

“How do you know?”

“It’s just something Zila always reminds me about whenever I’m studying things of that nature. Probably hopes if she says it enough times it’ll stick in my head.”

“Apparently it worked.”

Nilam stifled a laugh as to not disturb the worshippers at prayer. “I guess it did.” He quieted in thought for a moment. “Never quite got why she’s so stuck on that one though. All magic has risks.”

“Maybe because there’s gods involved.”

Nilam made a face and cocked his head. “Not exactly. And in that context I’d say spirit rather than god, but-” he cut himself off, “Sorry, I’m being pedantic. Nobody wants to hear me debate with myself over the exact nuances of various synonyms-” He snapped his mouth shut with wide eyes. “Gods, I just cannot shut up.”

Asra chuckled. “I don’t mind. At least you have interesting things to say.”

“Nah, I just use a lot of big fancy words. I’m an ostentatious little fu-” He caught himself. “-lamboyant individual.”

“Nice save.”

“I know not of what you speak.” He cleared his throat softly. “So, um… Aside from my rambling, what do you think of the place?”

Asra took a good look. He certainly liked the architecture. It found beauty in simplicity, and though the temple was plain, clean, and sparsely decorated, it did feel welcoming. There was also a distinct foreign flair to the few embellishments there were, such as the peculiar shape of the archways, but he had never seen such a style before. Where was it from, he wondered. _Probably across the desert and across the Bulan Mountains._ “It’s interesting. I’m curious about it.”

Nilam smiled, almost seeming relieved. “Well, I’d be happy to share some books with you when we get home. To the shop, I mean.” He shook his head and grumbled at himself, “ _Shut up, he knows what you mean, you don’t have to tell him every time you mess up talking-_ ”

“I will never turn down a book,” Asra accepted the offer, “But I think I might like it if you read it to me instead.”

“I think that could be arranged.” He squeezed Asra in a one-armed side-hug. “I’m gonna go do the thing real quick, okay? ‘ll just be a minute.”

Asra smiled and hugged back. “Go ahead. Take all the time you need.” 

“Thanks. Think about anything else you’d like to do while we’re out, ‘kay?” Nilam slipped off to one of the many identical altars set into alcoves. Asra watched with curiosity as Nilam knelt on a cushion and traced symbols into the air. He could see his lips moving, but what he muttered remained a mystery. Nilam fiddled with the elements on the altar with a sureness that only came with practice, lighting incense and arranging all the little bits and bobs without the slightest fumble. As he carried on, the lavender haze clinging to the air seemed to vibrate and snap to life. Was it supposed to do that? The smoke had seemed fairly mundane until a moment ago.

Once he had finished paying homage to his patron, Nilam stood, pausing briefly to exchange greetings with a middle-aged woman in white priestess’s robes, a charcoal grey scarf draped loosely over her head in an unusual manner. _Perhaps it’s a cultural style_ , Asra reasoned. _I think I saw a picture of Zila wearing a scarf a bit like that._

Nilam and the priestess exchanged shallow bows and he rejoined Asra. “Pardon the delay. That was the High Priestess, Deja.”

“No problem. So what’d you do?” Asra joked.

“Excuse me, who ever said I did something?” Nilam poked back. “Nah, she just wanted to know if I could come help out with a couple of rituals next week.”

“And?”

Nilam rubbed the back of his neck. “Schedule’s a little tight, but even if there’s not time, I can make some.” He stuck out his hand for Asra to hold and headed for the door.

“Got some handy time magic up your sleeves?” Asra questioned, half serious. Was that even something you could do?

“Me? No, that’s one thing I steer clear of messing with,” Nilam said as they stepped into the street, “All magic comes with risks, but time is something else entirely. Too unpredictable.”

“Are there other subjects you avoid?”

“Absolutely. Regarding magic, not so much. Guess necromancy? There’s a nasty field for ya.”

“So you draw the line at dead bodies. Good to know.”

“I draw _a_ line,” Nilam corrected. “And I reserve the right to draw more, should I see fit.” He shook his finger at the sky, giving it a good telling-to.

“You tell those clouds,” Asra teased and they both laughed, pulling into a hug and a spin before heading back to the main streets.

Having been too caught up watching Nilam, Asra hadn’t gotten around to thinking about additional date activities. Instead of a lame ‘I don’t know,’ he suggested they just explore, so Nilam guided Asra around the district, pointing out all the intricate banners and explaining the various deities they were dedicated to with a broad smile on his face.

“...The red one is for a western god called Ta-Me - though I’m not all that well-versed in western mythos yet - and that round temple with the orange banners is to Vestia. Zila and I usually stop in there a few times a year, and-”

“Well well, is that Nilam Houbima down there?” 

Nilam froze. “Son of a-” he swore under his breath and _very_ slowly turned. Asra peered around him to see a young priestess, no older than himself, stood with a broom on the steps above them. Nilam fixed her with a frigid glare. “What do you want, _Iva_?” He spat the name like it carried a foul taste.

“You’re the one on _my_ doorstep. Can't I say ‘hi’ to an old friend?”

He growled, “ _You_ do not get to call me ‘friend.’” Asra’s eyes flicked from Nilam to Iva, to Nilam to Iva, to Nilam to Iva, gauging the situation. He could feel the tingling in Nilam’s palm and brushed the back of his hand with his thumb to calm him.

“Are you seriously still mad? Gods, get over it already.” She said dismissively and stalked down the steps, eyeing up Asra. “Got yourself a new plaything, I see. Pretty. Still on a boy-toy kick, hmm?” Asra’s eyes narrowed. Ah. He knew her type.

His grip tightened. “I’m not on a ‘kick,’ and he’s no one’s ‘plaything.’ Fuck off.” The tendons in his hands stuck out under his skin from the tension.

She put a hand on her hip and eyed him contemptuously. “Is that any way to talk to a priestess?”

“It’s the only way I’ll talk to you. _Fuck. Off._ ”

She rolled her eyes. “Oh, come on. I _said_ I was sorry.”

“And _I_ told you I don’t give a shit about your apologies. Now _fuck off_ and LEAVE. ME. _ALONE_.”

Asra gently tugged Nilam’s arm and said sweetly, “Come on, sweetheart, let’s just go. Don’t waste your breath on people who don’t matter.” He pulled Nilam away and smirked as Iva screeched indignantly behind them. 

As they picked through the crowd, Asra rubbed Nilam’s arm with his free hand in an effort to soothe him. “So I take it that was the girlfriend?”

“ _Ex_ -girlfriend”

“I wonder why,” he muttered. “Was she always like that?”

“Pretty much.” _Then what were you even_ doing _with her?_

The muscles in Nilam’s forearm were still tight to the touch and his face was twisted into a stony scowl. Asra could see his jaw muscles flexing under his skin and caustic thoughts churning in the depths of his eyes. He glanced up at the sky to gauge the time, finding the clouds to already be turning pink. He had an idea. “Hey Ni, follow me. I know a spot you’ll like.”

“Where we going?”

“It’s a surprise. Come on.” He happily took his turn to pull Nilam through the streets, following the aqueducts up above. He brought them to one of the mighty stone pillars holding the great structures in the sky. A column of steel rungs stuck out from deep within the mortar between massive bricks. Asra waved up the ladder. “After you.”

Nilam eyed the rungs cautiously. “Are we supposed to go up there?”

Asra shrugged. “As long as we don’t cause a problem…”

“Nobody will care,” Nilam finished. “Yeah, fair enough.” He took hold of the rough steel and began to climb.

“I’ll be just behind, if you slip or something,” Asra said, following after.

“I’ll try to not plant by boot in your face if I do.” They climbed like a pair of monkeys up to the top, where the cool ocean breeze could ruffle their hair. The city stretched out below them in a sea of terracotta shingles. Even with the breeze, the aqueduct radiated the gentle warmth it had borrowed from the sun.

“It’s beautiful up here.”

“I thought you’d like it,” Asra smiled at him and sat down cross-legged near the edge. “Sit with me?” Nilam nodded and took a seat in the same manner, though a little further back. “You’re not afraid of heights, are you?”

“It’s not the word I’d use...” Nilam leaned forward and peered over for a moment. “Don’t so much have a _fear_ of heights as a, er… a healthy respect. It _is_ quite a ways down, after all.” He added, “Have to imagine my aunt would be rather put-out if I died prematurely thanks to my own stupidity.”

“Only if it’s because of stupidity?”

“If I’m to die young, I am to do it slaying dragons. So declares wise Madame Zila.” Nilam mimed a toast.

Asra laughed. “I can’t picture you as a monster-slayer. I get the feeling you’d adopt it, and probably by accident.”

“‘Oops, I brought home a dragon,’” Nilam joked, “‘But it’s okay auntie, he likes me!’” He laughed and sighed. “Wouldn’t that be something?” He gazed out at the sea, waves glittering in the changing light. Asra watched him daydream, glowing in the colors of sunset. He worked his fingers between Nilam’s and tentatively rested his head on his shoulder.

“I had a really nice time today,” he said softly.

“Sorry Iva ruined it.”

Asra blew a raspberry. “Eh, who cares about her? Not me. Trust me, Nilam, she was just posturing. Total blowhard.”

“You talk like you know her.”

He shrugged. “I’ve met plenty like her. She’s nothing special, Nilam, just a mean girl trying to make other people feel small to feel better about her own insecurities.” He pulled Nilam’s hand into his lap and gently kneaded his palm. “Really not the kind of person worth dwelling on.”

Nilam breathed deeply and shut his eyes. “I know, you’re right. Guess I just... lost my temper.”

“You call _that_ ‘losing your temper?’”

“I don’t usually get riled up like that,” he said like _that_ explained it.

“Ni, you barely even raised your voice. She was trying to get at you, and you didn’t let her, just shut it down.”

“Actually, I believe that was _you_.” Nilam smiled. “Nice one, by the way.”

“A-thank you very much.” Asra gave a mock bow. “It _can_ be fun to be catty from time to time.” 

Nilam laughed and let his head rest on the one on his shoulder, but only stayed there a short moment before jolting. “Oh! I almost forgot!”

“Forgot what?” Asra leaned back as Nilam fished around in his green overcoat.

“I um… ahem…” He pulled out a little embroidered pouch. “I know earlier we talked about how, um… how I go a bit overboard with the gifts and stuff and um… but I already had this and’ve been meaning to give it to you, and I- so…” His face flushed vermillion in the sunset as he floundered, and went quiet for a few moments as his brain caught up. “So yeah, here. This… this is for you.” He held out the pouch for Asra to take.

He loosened the drawstrings and poured the contents into his hand. A blue crystal glittered in his palm, cut into a teardrop and mounted on a leather cord. As soon as it touched his skin, he felt it thrum with bright magic. “Oh, Nilam, it’s beautiful. Where did you-?”

“Baskin.”

He mentally smacked his forehead. Of course that’s where he gets his shinies. “But when..?”

“A few weeks ago, when we first went to the market together.”

“You sneaky bastard, I didn’t notice you got this.” He turned the pendant in his hands. It’s clarity and color were utterly out of this world. “Gods, it’s gorgeous. How much did this cost?”

“Oh, just a story.” Asra raised an eyebrow. If possible, Nilam turned an even brighter scarlet. “Well, I, um… Remember how you went off looking at stuff and me while me and him were catching up…”

“I do…”

“Well, um… I told him a bit about how the Masquerade and stuff went, and uh… apparently my particular methods of… um, uh, _coquetry_ , I guess, if you will, were, um… amusing. To him.”

Asra blinked. He wasn’t quite sure what ‘coquetry’ was, but based on what he remembered of their dalliances that evening, he had a few guesses. “What… exactly did you tell him?”

“Well, this and that, but the part that got me that beauty was um… well… remember the crab legs?”

Asra, too, went red. “Oh gods, I’d forgotten about that,” he groaned and covered his eyes. “I still can’t believe how hard we both ran with that.” A sliver of purple peeked out between his fingers. “It was gratifying seeing you get all flustered over it though.”

“Yeah, because we were making dick jokes and you freaking _ate it_ ,” Nilam said with an infectious laugh.

Once the laughter ceased, Asra held out the necklace. “Would you put it on me?”

“Oh, um… Yeah, of course.” Asra turned around and Nilam fiddled with the clasp, settling the pendant around Asra’s neck and closing it. “There we go.” 

Asra turned back around and looked down at it sparkling in the middle of his chest. He looked up and smiled at Nilam. “What do you think?”

His eyes didn’t leave Asra’s. “It… I… think... you’re beautiful,” he said slowly. Bathed in the glow of a magnificent sunset, their fingers entwined a little tighter and they leaned in closer, ever so slowly. “Asra, I…” He gulped and quivered ever so slightly. “Can I…”

Asra’s hand landed lightly on Nilam’s cheek, his eyes drifting shut. “Please.” 

The space between them sealed shut. Nilam’s guts flipped and _why did he feel like he was spinning?_ He had been expecting the fireworks promised by silly romance novels, instead feeling the strange sensation of a marigold bursting into bloom all at once in his stomach. His free hand found Asra’s jaw and rested there, anchoring him and pulling them deeper, deeper into the kiss. 

Eventually it had to break, and the boys stayed there a moment, a mere hair’s breadth apart, gazing into each other’s unfocused eyes. The ends of their lips turned up and giggled and laughed, occasionally stealing another quick peck.

“Took you long enough,” Asra teased gently once they came back to themselves.

“Hey, we only _just_ became boyfriends today, most people would call that fast.” Nilam froze upon realizing what he’d just said. “I mean… That is, if you want to be-”

“Yes, Nilam,” Asra kissed him again with a smile, “I want to be your boyfriend.”

He shot him a nervous smile. “Sorry, I’m being neurotic again, aren’t I?”

Asra tucked a stray curl behind Nilam’s ear. “It’s okay. You’ve got nothing to apologize for,” Asra assured, “Not to me.” 

The boys gazed out to the sea, where the sun was almost drowned. “We should probably get heading back soon,” Nilam mumbled after a few minutes.

Asra hummed and readjusted his head on Nilam’s shoulder. “Maybe. But let’s stay just a little longer, until the sun dies.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you for reading! Please leave any comments, questions, or suggestions in yonder box.  
> If there are any errors, parts that are confusing/don't work, or tags that I should add/edit/delete, feel free to say something.
> 
> I am also considering trying a system in which I would list relevant tags for individual chapters, so things that don't come up enough for me to list with the other tags can still be listed. Let me know if you would like me to try this.


	6. The Past is the Past

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has some heavier themes, so I figure I should warn you ahead of time. I don't yet know if these themes will be present consistently enough to put them in the proper Tags, so I'll be adding chapter-specific tags in the notes.
> 
> Chapter Tags: Mild eating disorder (unspecified), Background death, Mild angst, Abandonment issues, Slight trust issues, Self-Blame/Internalized Victim Blaming?, Mild Dissociation, Talk Of: Past bad/toxic relationships; Past verbal abuse; Past cheating; Past bullying; Emotional scars.

Nilam returned to the waking world as a sunbeam crawled across the floorboards. He flexed his back with a sleepy groan and hugged the warm body under his arm closer to his chest, nuzzling into soft hair.

“Mmm?” Asra rolled over, wrapping his own arm around Nilam and burying his face in the collar of his nightshirt. “G’m’rning,” he drawled sleepily and pressed a drowsy kiss to Nilam’s lips.

“Did I wake you up?”

“Hmm… no…” He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and glanced up at the colorful windows. “Prob’ly time t’ get up anyway.”

Nilam sighed. He was probably right, but it sounded so much more appealing to stay right where he was, tracing shapes into Asra’s back. “In a few minutes.” Asra snuggled against his chest with a happy hum. Nilam closed his eyes and twirled his fingers through Asra’s hair. This was the best way to wake up, he’d discovered, warm and lazy, holding someone he cherished, someone who adored him in return, and he’d gotten to wake up this way nearly every day for the last week. A few thousand more mornings like this, and he could die a happy man.

“Wh’chwe gotta do today?” Asra mumbled, tracing his finger along Nilam’s sharp collarbone.

“Nothing special, I think.” He stretched his legs, tangling with Asra’s. “Might get a batch of pemmican going later.”

“Want help?”

“You volunteering?” He gave Asra a squeeze and yawned. “Ugh, I gotta get up, or I’ll fall back asleep.”

Asra whined and clutched Nilam’s waist as he sat up, “ _ Noo… _ I wanna cuddle you more~” 

Nilam chuckled and ruffled his hair. “Me too. Maybe we’ll get some free time later.” Asra flopped on his stomach and stared out the colorful window to let Nilam change in privacy, and  _ no, _ of  _ course _ he didn’t peek when Nilam took his shirt off. He would never.

Nilam tied a dark blue sash over his white tunic. “You can stop pretending to look away now.” 

Asra’s ears turned red. “I didn’t look.”

“Sure you didn’t.” He pecked the back of Asra’s head. “See you downstairs.” Squeezing his shoulder one more time, Nilam left his room and trundled down to the shop floor.

“Morning, sweetheart,” Zila greeted from the back room, sipping a cup of tea. 

“Morning, Auntie. Sleep good?”

“Just fine, dear. Should I assume you slept?”

His cheeks burned. “I…  _ I slept _ , thank you _. _ We don’t… haven’t…” His hands flailed, trying and failing to articulate.

“Whatever you say, dear. Did you eat?”

“Er, no, not yet,” he rubbed his neck, “Not hungry yet. I’ll eat in a bit.”

“No you won’t, boy, I’ve met you. Go eat your oats.”

“Really, I’m fine-” 

She shot him a stare over the rims of her reading glasses. “ _ Now,  _ Nilam.”

“Okay, okay, fine. I’m going.” He flung up his hands in defeat and trudged back upstairs, grumbling about how he really isn’t hungry as he scooped some leftover oatmeal into a bowl. “Asra, you want breakfast?” he called around the corner. 

“That’d be nice, thanks!” He heard Asra’s feet thump to the floor in the other room and pad into the kitchen. He wrapped his arms around Nilam’s waist from behind. “I thought I’d be seeing you downstairs.” Nilam prepared a second bowl.

“Aunt Zila insisted on breakfast before starting work.”

Asra wondered if he’d ever actually  _ seen _ Nilam have breakfast. When he stayed over, he usually wound up sleeping through the Houbimas’ morning meal. “Well, it’s important.”

“I know, I just don’t usually like eating in the mornings,” Nilam made a face and shrugged while he reheated the oats with a simple charm. “Want fruit and cream?” Asra nodded and passed him the toppings, kept cool in the larder. He watched Nilam load up one bowl with heaping scoops of fresh fruit and cream, then to his surprise shoved the toppings aside and to the other bowl mixed in only a bit of honey, some salt, a meager pat of butter, and a chunk of dark sugar from a block. 

“You’re not having any of that?” Asra gestured to the abandoned fruit and cream. 

An odd expression rested on Nilam’s face for a moment. “Oh, no. I don’t really like milk and I hate what the heat does to the fruit.” He grimaced. “All mushy and- blegh.”

Asra raised an eyebrow and tilted his head. “To each their own, I suppose.”

“Exactly.” Nilam offered Asra his decadent bowl of oatmeal. “Shall we?” 

They took a seat at the small table and spooned food into their faces. A short ways through his bowl, Nilam scowled and rubbed his stomach.

“You okay?”

“I’m fine. Like I said, not really hungry in the morning.” He added, “Eating kinda hurts.”

“Maybe you’re eating too fast,” Asra offered. “But if you don’t want to finish, I can polish that off for you.”

Nilam waved and forced another spoonful down his throat. “No, it’s okay. If I don’t eat breakfast, Zila says I get too skinny.” He paused and stared at the large remaining glob of oatmeal. The reluctance was clearly legible on his face. With a heavy sigh, he scooped the whole thing up and crammed it in his mouth. His eyes screwed shut in discomfort as he forced it down his throat.

“Hey, hey! Don’t hurt yourself!”

Nilam took a breath before opening his eyes back up, his grimace only thinly masked. “The faster I’m done, the sooner the stomach ache goes away. Usually.” Asra shot Nilam a concerned look. “I’m fine, really. Just… a delicate constitution, in some regards.”

“If you say so. Is that normal, though?”

“Sure, not everybody likes to eat at the same time-”

“No, I mean the-” Asra shook his head. “Nevermind. You’d know better than I would. I’m just worrying over nothing, aren’t I?”

“I appreciate that you care enough to worry.” Nilam grabbed Asra’s hand and pressed his lips to his knuckles. “But trust me, I’m fine.”

“I believe you,” Asra sighed and leaned against the hand holding his spoon, just staring at Nilam with a grin on his face. 

“What?”

“I like you,” he cooed, winning a lopsided smile.

“Well that’s good to hear,” Nilam snorted, “I was starting to think you didn’t.”

“And what a fool I would be if that were the case.” He tapped the end of Nilam’s cute little nose with one finger and chomped down on his last bite. “Work time?”

“Work time.”

The boys headed back downstairs. Zila had wandered off somewhere, her teacup empty in the back room. Asra headed to the back to study while he waited for someone seeking a tarot reading. Nilam, meanwhile, stepped behind the counter without missing a beat, scanning through the ledger and getting to work on the remaining orders from the day before. A loud bang told the boys there was some potion-brewing going on in the commerce kitchen - the one upstairs just didn’t have the space for such activities.

It was a fairly quiet morning. Over the course of a couple hours, a slow but steady stream of customers trickled through the door seeking a cure for their woes, and most left having found it. A handful inquired about the other enigmatic youngster nose-deep in a book in the back room, and a pinch out of those actually partook in his services. One woman asked him about palm reading, which he confessed he knew little about at that time. After she left, Asra made a note to search Zila’s library for a book or two on palmistry. During a lull, he played around with his worn old tarot cards a bit, and eventually got distracted guessing at the secrets inscribed in the lines on his palms.

The door bell jingled. “Good afternoon,” He heard Nilam greet another client, “Welcome to- are you alright, Miss?”

Asra lowered his book and peered through a gap in the curtain. Was something wrong?

“My dad is sick,” The girl sniffled. 

Asra heard the tinkle of little glass bottles as he turned to peruse the shelf. “Alright, not to worry, I’m sure we have somethi-”

“His eyes turned red this morning.”

“Oh.” Nilam’s personable smile crumbled. “Oh, I see. In that case…” He abandoned the bottle he’d been reaching for and unlocked a drawer, withdrawing a small crystal phial filled with a clear, colorless liquid. “There’s… I’m afraid all we can do is… well…” he held out the vial. “...This’ll ease his suffering,” he said quietly, “If you need, one of us can come by and do it for you. If it’s too hard.”

“I can do it,” she choked, “Thank you. How… how much do I owe?”

Nilam shook his head. “You don’t. We don’t charge for… er, final services.”

“I…” she said again, her lip quivering, “Thank you.” She rushed out the door in tears. 

As soon as the door swung shut, Nilam slumped against the counter with his face in his hands. Asra scrambled to his feet and came up to embrace him. “Hey… You okay?”

He sighed. “Eighth one.”

“What?”

“That girl. She was the eighth proxy today.”

“Proxy?”

“For Plague victims.” 

_ Oh _ . He hadn’t noticed the others. Asra hugged tighter and pressed his cheek into Nilam’s back. “It’s not your fault,” he soothed.

“I know that. It just…” he sighed again, “I hate being a healer who can’t  _ heal _ something.”

“ _ Nobody _ knows how to treat it, Ni. You can’t beat yourself up over something nobody can do.”

“Who’s beating my boy up?” Zila emerged from the storage room adjoining the kitchen, a few strands of hair frizzing out from under the scarf wrapped snugly around her head.

“Himself,” Asra cooed and toyed with Nilam’s hair, swaying lightly.

“What’s wrong, sweetie?” She asked as she crossed the room.

“Plague.”

“Ah. Bad day for it, eh?” She glanced over Nilam’s shoulder at the locked drawer, half empty. Her own face darkened and she rubbed Nilam’s hand. That batch was only a week old, and meant to last at least a month. “Nice to know House Vesuvia is doing as lousy a job as ever.”

“ _ We’re _ the healers, Auntie-”

“We are. But it’s the bloody  _ Count _ and his entourage-” She snapped and jerked her chin toward the palace on the hill. “-who’re supposed to take care of and protect this city, not us doctors. It’s not our fault that prick is more interested in funding his parties and sleazing than  _ basic goddamn health measures _ .” 

Asra blinked at Zila.  _ Well. I wonder where Ni got his loathing of the Count from.  _

“I hope  _ he _ gets it,” Nilam muttered darkly. “Bastard deserves it.”

Asra hushed him. Don’t talk like that, he soothed, even if it’s true, such thoughts are poison.

For a while, the magicians loitered in heavy silence, disturbed only by the dull clamor from the street. Eventually, the clock upstairs chimed eleven, and Zila patted Nilam’s hand. “Why don’t we step out to the market for a bit? A little fresh air might do us all some good. Help get those nasty thoughts out.” She tucked the stray hairs under her headscarf and wrapped a second shawl around her shoulders. “Go on, go get your bags!”

The boys scampered upstairs to fetch them, returning within a minute. Nilam put out the lantern and Asra hung the ‘Be-Right-Back’ sign on the door, and they raced to catch up with their teacher. “What are we getting, Auntie?”

“I told you dear; Air.” She passed him a small pouch that jingled when it hit his palm. “And if there’s something you happen to want or need while we’re out, well.” Nilam nodded and opened his mouth to ask something else, but the sharp blare of trumpets erupted through the chatter in the square.

_ “ATTENTION, DEAR CITIZENS OF VESUVIA!” _ A crier's reedy voice carried over the crowd,  _ “I HAVE BEEN GIVEN THE GREAT HONOR OF ANNOUNCING THAT OUR GREAT LEADER IS SOON TO BE MARRIED!” _ A handful of people offered light applause. The Houbimas scoffed.  _ “IN CELEBRATION, OUR ILLUSTRIOUS COUNT LUCIO WOULD LIKE TO INVITE YOU, FAIR PEOPLE, TO ATTEND A GRAND WEDDING BALL IN TWO MONTHS TIME!” _ That garnered a little more enthusiasm.

“Are you _ fucking joking?! _ ” The boys jumped and stared at Zila’s furious hiss. “The city is going to shit and he’s throwing  _ another _ stupid party?”

“It  _ is _ his wedding…”

“And what a piece of work  _ she _ must be, to have said ‘yes’ to  _ him. _ ” Her lip curled. “People’re dying faster than ever, and he thinks it’s a good time for a fucking  _ wedding ball… _ ” She stormed off, muttering under her breath.

Asra pointed after her. “Should we be worried?”

Nilam waved it off. “Nah, she’s probably just gonna go to her friend’s place and blow off some steam. Or maybe we’re in for a new Count, who knows.” He chuckled oddly to himself. “You know in some countries it’s treason to even speculate about the ruler’s death?”

“Charming. Come on, let’s shop, or at least get out of the street.” Asra caught Nilam’s arm and tugged him off to the side and spotted something shiny through the crowd. “Oh look, Ni. Isn’t that Baskin’s stuff?”

Nilam tried to see where Asra was pointing, eventually catching sight of something glittery. “Good eye! Didn’t know he was back in town already. Wanna go say hi?”

Asra smiled with a tiny shrug. “Couldn’t hurt.”

Nilam chuckled with a toothy grin, “You just haven’t spent enough time with him yet.” They picked through the market-goers and other vendors vying for their attention. When they reached his stall, Baskin was already occupied selling a large ruby bracelet to a wealthy-looking older woman, so they quietly perused the displays of loose stones at the other end.

“Oooh, look at that opal,” Asra pointed through the glass at a lustrous whitish disk, a little larger than a gold coin. It shimmered blue and pale gold where the sun touched it.

“Wow, that  _ is _ pretty,” Nilam whistled. “Kinda reminds me of the moon.” He made a ring with his fingers and measured the disk, bringing his fingers up by Asra’s temple. “It’d look lovely on you as a hairpin.” Down to his shoulder. “Or a brooch…”

Asra rolled his eyes with a playful smile. “Oh, I don’t need more stuff.” Nilam raised a questioning eyebrow. “I live in South End, Ni. I probably shouldn’t walk around covered in jewels.”

He huffed and nodded, “Yeah, fair point. Still, too bad. You’d look pretty in white opal.”

Asra pouted. “Am I not pretty enough already?”

Nilam lifted Asra’s chin with a sultry grin, “Absolutely  _ gorgeous _ , my d-”

“You gett’n married yet?” Nilam and Asra snapped apart and tried to act like they hadn’t just been caught about to smooch in public. “I got rings if ya need ‘em.”

Nilam coughed into his hand, flaming telltale red. “It’s uh… ahem, it’s a bit early for that…”

Baskin shrugged with a smirk. “Well then I got other kinds a rings, too.”

Nilam pinched the bridge of his nose. “Oh, for the love of Danu…” 

Baskin turned to Asra. “How ‘bouchu, Fluffy? That sound like someth’n you’re into?”

Asra blinked and squinted. “I, er… Should I know what you’re talking about?”

Baskin laughed. “Nevermind, come back when you’re older.” He glanced down at the pendant hanging on Asra’s chest. “Ooh, I was wonderin’ what he was gonna do wi’ that.” He looked back at Nilam. “So whadja do to it?”

“Who says I did anything to it?” Even Asra lifted his eyebrow. “Okay, okay, I did enchant it a little, but there’s nothing wrong with a little luck charm and whatnot.”

Baskin smirked at Asra. “Careful wi’ this conniving witch. Bet he put some shady love spell on it.”

“How  _ dare _ you, sir, insinuate such a thing?” Nilam balked like a character in a Bardelian play, “ _ I _ am an honorable man. Never would I resort to such witless trickery!”

Baskin stared and shook his head. “And this idiot decided to be a doctor.” He jerked his chin at Asra. “Might not be too late fer a career switch if ya wanna talk ‘im into acting.”

“I’m not sure I could if I wanted to.” Asra thought about it then agreed, “Though I wouldn’t mind seeing you on stage once or twice, Ni.”

“Aw, how cute. ‘E’s already got a pet name for ya.”

“Oh, shut up.” Nilam rolled his eyes. “Got anything new in?”

“Yeah. Whaddya want?”

“Surprise me. Wait-! No, don’t. I know you too well for that. How about some loose stones?” Baskin pointed down at the case. “For magic, not just pretties.”

“Why didn’cha say so?” He stepped into a cleverly hidden storage room, returning with a small wooden chest. Inside lay a rainbow of tumbled stones in a variety of colors and degrees of polish. Though imperfect and uncut, the gems in the box seemed to hum.

Nilam grinned. “ _ Very NICE _ , my friend.” He fished around in his bag and pulled out a moderately-sized linen pouch. “How much to fill ‘er up?”

“Five silver.”

“Even for me?” Nilam teased.

“‘nless you can top your last stupid story.”

Nilam glanced at Asra and smirked. “I could recount to you the thrilling tale of Asra crushing Iva’s ego with a single sentence.”

Baskin’s eyebrow snapped up. “You have my attention.”

Nilam leaned on his elbow against the counter and began, “It was a lovely day you see, the two of us strolling about the temples…” He glossed over their two temple visits, diving straight into the juicy bits. Asra listened with a mix of curiosity and amusement. The version he told was a little different than he remembered it happening, but a little embellishment rarely hurt a good story. “My dear friend, you should have heard it: That screech put the Bhan Sidhe to shame.”

Baskin snickered with a wolfish grin plastered on his face. “I’d’ve loved t’ see that.” He nudged the chest forward. “A’right fine, good enough. Three silver this time. Knock yerself out.”

Nilam gleefully dug through the stones, picking out whatever sizes, colors, and shapes caught his interest, occasionally oohing like a little monkey at a particularly pretty piece. Baskin rolled his eyes at his friend and turned back to Asra. “So, anythin’ else you two’re lookin’ for, or’s he just here to swindle me?”

Asra looked around the stall. “I just thought it might be nice to say hi.”

Baskin raised an eyebrow. “ _ You _ did, did ya?” He jabbed Nilam in the shoulder. “Careful Lammy, think ‘e might fancy me.”

“Mhm, sure buddy.” He dropped a few pieces of tiger’s eye and garnet into the pouch. 

Baskin squinted at the combo. “What on earth’re you plannin’ t’ do with those?”

“Lots of things.” He shot Baskin a ‘No shit, dumbass’ look and selected a few more stones before drawing the string and tying it shut. “Oh, crap, I need more leather cord. And some more silk thre- Oh, and wire, and-”

“Then just go get some. Yelker’s is open.”

Nilam looked surprised. “Really? Thought he shut down.”

“Nah, ‘is kid got married. Went up north for the wedding ‘n’ stayed a few weeks.”

“Oh, well that’s nice.” While they shot the breeze, Asra poked his nose around the stall. So many colors, so many shapes… He could easily picture himself wearing any of a number of the brilliant sapphire necklaces or emerald bangles laid out on display, but he wasn’t looking for such things today. Not for him. He glanced between Nilam and a wide tray of pendants, some mounted, some wrapped, some little more than plain crystals with a hole bored through one end. 

“Hey, Asra?” He jumped as Nilam’s hand suddenly flattened on his back and he twisted his head around. “I’m gonna head up the street to Yelker’s and get some crafting supplies. Wanna come with or stay here?”

“I don’t mind waiting here. I’ll keep an eye out for your aunt in case she comes back this way.”

Nilam chuckled, “If you say so. Shouldn’t be too long, ‘kay?”

“‘Kay.” They sealed the agreement with a smooch that carried on a little longer than strictly necessary in public, and was met with an audible eye-roll from Baskin. Nilam flipped him the bird, gave Asra’s hand a squeeze, and set off into the marketplace. Once he disappeared around a corner, Baskin sauntered up.

“So, wi’ that craptastic excuse, ‘m guessin’ yer lookin’ for a present for ‘im, eh?”

“Am I that obvious?”

“Please,” he snorted, “‘ow many people ya think I see ev’ry day tryin’ ta get a gift all sneaky-like?” He chuckled and moved on, “So what can I do ya for?”

“Well I’m afraid you can’t  _ do me _ for anything,” Asra quipped, winning a snicker. “But you could help me find something for Nilam.” He held up his crystal pendant in his palm. “I was thinking something to go with this.”

Baskin nodded in thought. “Right… I don’ have any more of that kinda stone - bit rare, y’see - but ‘m sure I got somethin’ that’ll do the trick. Know whatcha want?”

“Not… quite. I was actually hoping you might be able to help me find something he’ll like. You  _ have _ known him a long time, so…”

“Playmates since we were five.” Baskin tapped his chin and hummed, eying up the pendants in the tray. For a second, Asra could swear his smirk twitched. “Well, th’ guy likes jussabout any shiny rock…”

“What’s his favorite?”

“Hm… Hard to say. He’s always liked opal, amethyst, garnet…” Baskin proceeded to list at least half of the kinds of stones one display.

Asra browsed all the sections he pointed out. The opals were beautiful, but even against black velvet he knew those intense colors wouldn’t look quite right on Nilam - and they were all far too flashy anyway. The amethysts too were lovely, but simply weren’t right. “I don’t know… Does he even really like wearing jewelry? I don’t usually see him with much, if any.”

“Oh, sure. He’s just lazy and doesn’t feel like looking fancy all the time.”

Asra nodded.  _ Not too fancy. I guess that makes sense. _ He’d already eliminated most of the gold-mounted stones, with their ornate decorations. Something simpler would be better. And more congruent with his own necklace, he remembered. “Do you have anything shaped a bit like mine? Maybe in red or green, those look particularly good on him.”

Baskin flashed a grin and pointed over to a section of bright emeralds and vivid rubies. “Red and green, have at.” Asra looked through the brilliant stones, trying to picture Nilam wearing them every day - or, well… at least regularly. Hopefully. Asra’s brow furrowed. In a manner much like the opals, the colors were simply were too bold, and just not quite right for Nilam. “No…” He shook his head. “No, too bright.”

_ Maybe something more opaque, like jasper or jade? _ He thought,  _ Jade would look nice with his eyes. _ He glanced over at the assortment of mossy green stones, but they all seemed more like they’d be more suited to Muriel. “Is Nilam always this difficult to shop for?”

“Yes. Yes he is.”

“Oh good. Nice to know it’s not just me, then.” Asra stalked up and down the row of pendants, sweeping a second time in case he’d simply missed the right one the first time. A pretty drop-cut garnet caught his attention - it really would match his in shape, after all, and this shade of deep blackish-red would look quite striking on him - but somehow it still wasn’t quite what he was looking for. Not for this gift, anyway. But maybe he should go ahead and get it for something down the road… “Hey Baskin, when is-” He turned and noticed the gears spinning behind his calculating stare. “Something wrong?”

“Nah, jus’ thinkin’. When’s what?”

“When’s Nilam’s birthday?”

“Eighth a’ November. Ya got time.” 

Asra nodded and returned the garnet to its spot. He pinched his chin and squinted at all the pretty things he didn’t want.  _ There’s nothing  _ wrong _ with any of them, _ he puzzled, _ They’re all pretty, and fashionable and- _ a tiny bell in his head dinged.  _ And conventional _ . “Show me what else you have. Something imperfect.”

Baskin raised his eyebrow, but couldn’t hide the pleased twitch in his grin. “Imperfect?”

“Yeah. Not the kind of thing meant for posh folks. Something more… natural’s not quite the right word, but…”

Baskin held up a hand,  _ Say no more. _ He slipped through the back tent flap and soon returned with another velvet-lined tray laden with more crystals and stones, and Asra immediately realized why they were stored separately. He could feel the native magic humming in their matrices. Even with their unearthly bright colors, the jewels out for display felt cheap and lifeless in comparison to the plain cabochons and polished crystal spikes. The little flaws and inclusions just made them even more interesting to look at. He had no idea what to do with most of them, but he wanted all of them.

But just that one would do, that one that sang a little louder and more familiarly than the rest. Over everything, the deep green spire caught his eye, slightly cloudy and dotted with some other kind of stone. “What’s this?”

Baskin grinned, unabashedly pleased. “Emerald. Variety’s from up northwest. Bit of a bitch to get the las’ eighty years ‘r so, what wi’ trade restrictions.”

“Is it supposed to have those little bits in it?”

Baskin shrugged. “‘T’s how nature made it, ain’t it? But yeah, tha’s prob’ly granite or marble in there - little hard ta tell without breakin’ it - but mos’ folks wan’ their jewels clear an’ perfect, so this one was rejected from the get, bein’ all cloudy, see?” Baskin held it up to the light to let the swirly fogginess show. “But beauty’s in the eye of the beholder, ain’t it?”

“Couldn’t say it better myself,” Asra agreed. “How much for it?”

“I’ll cut ya a deal for three silver.”

Asra raised an eyebrow and glanced at the chest of loose stones, still on the counter. Nilam had paid that much for a whole bag. Granted they were uncut, half-tumbled rocks instead of polished, finished pieces of jewelry. Still, that’s quite a price difference.

Baskin noticed where his eyes went. “Shudalan emeralds cost a pretty penny, even like this. Trus’ me, ‘t’s a bargain. If ya don’ believe me, tell yer squeeze ‘ow much ya bought it for. He knows ‘ow much they’re worth.” Something off in the market caught Baskin’s attention and his eyes went wide for a moment. “Ah, crap. Ac’ natural, nothin’ ‘appened.”

Before Asra had time to ask ‘what?’, Baskin and his magic gems disappeared once again. He turned around. What made him - “Oh hi, you.”

“Hi yourself,” Nilam greeted him, appearing seemingly out of nowhere and slipping an arm around Asra’s waist.

“Where did you  _ come from? _ ” He asked as he twisted to give him a welcome-back hug - though he hadn’t been gone twenty minutes.“You’ve got to teach me how to do that sometime.” 

Nilam stifled a smirk. “I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.”

Asra raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Uh-huh. Sure you don’t. Mission successful?”

“Oh, yes.” Nilam patted his bag. “Should be all stocked up for a while.”

“‘Fraid I don’t got any good ameth-” Baskin reemerged, starting a loud lie, then shaking his head and tutting. “Can’t leave you two alone one damn minute without ya gettin’ all handsy wi’ each other, can I?”

“It’s a  _ hug _ ,” Nilam protested.

“Sure, buddy.” He looked at Asra. “Anyway, I don’t got ‘nymore good amethysts for ya ta look at. You’ll jus’ ‘ave to come back another time when I do.” Somehow, he managed to wink without closing either of his eyes.

“Amethysts?” Nilam tilted his head at Asra, his usual clever smile tugging at his lips.

Asra scrambled for a lie. “I, er… I was reading a bit about the properties of stones, and um… he said he could show me some, uh-” He snapped his fingers as he searched for words that made sense.

“I believe ya wanted ta see the diff’rence ‘tween mundane an’ magic stones.” He offered them a shrug. “Wanted to show off some Zadithis, but I guess I sold m’ last ones.”

Asra’s ears pricked up. “Zadithi?”

“Yeah, didn’ I mention? Zadith has the best amethysts. Richest colors and best for magic.”

“My parents were from there.”

Baskin snapped in triumph. “I knew you were Zadithi!” He tapped the corner of his eye. “Like I said…”

“Don’t be a prick, Baskin,” Nilam piped up.

“What else am I supposed to be?” He waved his hand. “Whatever. Maybe next I’ll head east, get sommore. You guys want anything?” He leaned against the counter and informed Asra, “If ya wan’ somethin’ in perticular, I take requests fer favored customers.”

Asra already assumed Nilam was on that list, if Baskin had one. (and what merchant didn’t?) “Oh? And I make such an esteemed list?”

“Yeah, sure. Friend o’ Lammy’s is a friend o’ mine, innat right?” He shot Nilam a pointed look.

Nilam rolled his eyes. “Yes, mother. C’mon, Asra, we should probably get going.” He stepped forward to share a shoulder-slapping embrace and bid him farewell, no doubt insulting him on the way.

Asra stepped up and rather than a civil-but-impersonal handshake, got a vaguely-friendly hand on the shoulder. Baskin smiled wide and said jovially, “Treat ‘im bad or make ‘im cry an’ I’ll sell ya a cursed amulet at double the price an’ dump ya in the canals when it kills ya.”

Asra blinked, a bewildered grin on his face. He glanced over ar Nilam, just out of earshot and looking at some pretty scarves. “That, um… I wasn’t exactly planning on it, but… thanks for the warning?”

Baskin patted his shoulder and nodded. “Jus’ makin’ sure we’re clear. Nice seein’ ya. Stop by later an’ I’ll give ya that necklace, yeah?” 

“Yeah, um… Nice seeing you too.” Asra shuffled off to rejoin Nilam and wriggled their fingers together.

“I hope you and Baskin got along well while I was gone.”

“Everything went fine. Good guy, if a bit of a dickhead.”

“Pre _ cisely _ right,” Nilam agreed. “He behave himself?”

“Oh yes, he’s much more polite to me than he is to you.”

“He’s more polite to  _ everyone _ than he is to me.” He thought twice. “Well, almost everyone. He’ll be civil if he just doesn’t like you, but get on his shit list and he’ll go Full Asshole.”

“Yeah, I kinda got that.”

Nilam raised an eyebrow. “What did he do?”

“Nothing bad. Just stopped me and warned me not to make you cry, else he’ll sell me a cursed amulet-”

“For double price and throw you in the bay?” Nilam rolled his eyes and groaned, though the faint smile on his face suggested he wasn’t annoyed. 

“Just the canals.”

“Of course he did. He stare at you much?”

Asra recalled when he’d asked about Nilam’s birthday. “Once, I suppose. Why?”

Nilam rolled his eyes again. “Damn guy can’t leave well enough alone, can he?”

“What do you mean?”

He sighed. “He was reading you,” he explained, “Baskin’s pretty shit at doing magic, but the guy’s smart and perceptive as hell. Wouldn’t be surprised if he’s actually a bit of a clairvoyant or something. He’s practically a living bullshit detector.”

“Right,” Asra furrowed his brow. “But what does that have to do with me? Us?”

Nilam’s steps slowed for a moment. Asra knew what that meant. “Right, um… Well, you know he’s been my friend a long time, and… well... long story short he’s had to watch me be treated pretty badly in the past. He tried to drive the shitty people away, I was usually too dense to realize ‘til it was too late, but… he was always right in the end. So whatever you two got up to without me, he was definitely judging you.” 

The attempt at humor fell flat and Asra gave Nilam’s hand a squeeze. “What do you mean, ‘treated badly’?”

Nilam’s lips flattened and he ran a hand through the hair at his temple. “What it sounds like, I guess. People are awful.” “I... don’t really wanna talk about it. Not right now, anyway.” He painted on a smile. “We were having such a nice day, after all!” They were certainly having  _ a _ day, but Asra was willing to hazard a guess that he was the only one having a nice one.

“Later, then?” 

He looked off to the side and fiddled with the edge of his coat. “Yeah, sure. I guess. If you really want to.”  _ But I’d rather you didn’t _ .

“Is it something we  _ should _ talk about?” If it really wasn’t, he’d drop it.

Nilam grimaced and managed to both nod and shake his head simultaneously. “I…” He sighed and his shoulders sunk a bit. “I guess so.”

Asra rubbed Nilam’s forearm. “You okay?”

“Yeah, fine,” he assured dully, “Just... don’t like thinking about it. Come on, let’s go home.”

“You sure? You don’t need to get anything else?”

He shrugged, “Not really. Might make a run later this evening though, after closing.” The boys made it out of the Market Square and turned down the main street.

“Why not just do it now?”

“Longer trip. And not business.” Nilam stared through the cobblestones as he talked, “‘S for the orphans. Lotta food vendors wind up with a lot of good but unsellable scraps, so I cut a deal with most of ‘em where they hang onto good scraps and trimmings for me. It’s how I get most of the food I make for the kids.”

Asra’s brow pinched. “Really? You feed them scraps?”

“Not the waste off someone’s plate,” he protested, “Kitchen trimmings; the extra bits you cut off a roast before cooking, the veggie skins, chopped-off ends… They’re still perfectly  _ good _ , if you’re resourceful, but the average customer rarely wants to pay for bone scrapings or organ meat,” he explained with a shrug, “It’s a win-win-win scenario. The merchants make a little money they otherwise wouldn’t, the kids get good food, and it doesn’t cost us an arm and a leg to do it. Auntie and I make a decent enough living, but feeding that many kids conventionally just wouldn’t be feasible. Not for  _ us _ , anyway.” He shot a pointed glance at the golden spires looming over the city.

“Can’t really argue with that,” Asra admitted. “You wanted to make your pemmican, right? What do we need for that?” Nilam listed off the ingredients on his fingers, along with his suppliers. Nearly everything came from a different vendor. “Right… Anything else?”

“Depends on what else is in stock. Gotta work with whatcha got.”

“How long will it take to get all that?”

“I dunno, a few hours maybe? I don’t mind.”

“And how long will the cooking take?”

“A, er… A while. Few more hours, probably.”

Asra approximated that timeline. If Nilam planned to head out for ingredients after closing, he’d be heading out around 6:00. ‘A few hours’ later would have him returning well after dark, probably not before 10:00.  _ Another _ ‘few hours’ of cooking meant he would be up and working into the wee hours of the morning. “And were you planning on sleeping at any point tonight?”

“ _ Yes, _ I…” Nilam glanced up, eyes flicking around as he did the math. “Oh. I um… I can take tomorrow off… Sleep in…”

“ _Or_ \- here’s a thought - you could make a list and send your Junior - he pointed at himself - out to pick everything up for you while you hold down the fort.” Asra shot him a grin. “Bet I’ll be back before the lantern’s out.”

At last, the playful twist of Nilam’s mouth came back. “Oh? And what is it we’re betting?”

“A surprise,” he fibbed. It wasn’t a total lie. It was just a surprise to both of them.

“I don’t think that’s how betting works.” Nilam rolled Asra’s plan around in his head a moment and eventually agreed, “But fine, I’ll take your wager. Really think you can get it done by closing?”

“Like I said, I’d bet on it.” A suitable prize popped into his head. “Oh! I know! The winner gets one non-refusable favor.”

Nilam’s jaw clenched almost imperceptibly before giving Asra a tight, toothy grin. “Yeah, sure. That sounds good.” His boots moved a little faster over the cobblestone, the hand joined with Asra’s trailing behind as the gap between them widened.

Asra’s smile dropped. That… wasn’t the reaction he expected. He’d agreed, but he didn’t sound happy about it. It seemed more like he’d just learned some particularly unpleasant relatives had been invited over. 

They walked for a few minutes before reaching the shop door, still locked with the sign in place. Nilam fished around in his bag for his keys and unlocked the door. Quietly, he dropped his bag behind the counter and fetched a scrap of paper, quill, and inkpot and began furtively scribbling.

Asra shut the door behind them. “Is everything okay, Ni?”

“Huh?” Nilam looked up, then waved dismissively and looked back down. “Yeah, fine. Anyway, here’s the list. And remember; the deal is five coppers. Don’t let anyone charge you extra because you’re new.”

“Oh, alright then.” He took the list and looked over it. Like his aunt, even Nilam’s scribbles were nicer than most people’s best handwriting.

“Something wrong?”

“Hm? No, no. But before I go-” Asra tapped his cheek with a finger. “Can I?”

Nilam’s face split in a grin. “What do you think?” Asra leaned over the counter and laid a chaste kiss on Nilam’s cheek. Right as he pulled away, another pair of lips charged forward to seize his for another few moments. “You’d leave me with but a kiss upon the cheek? You wound me, dear Asra.”

“I shan’t be gone long,” Asra played into the drama as he made his way to the door, “Don’t fall in love with anyone while I’m out.”

“Worry not, my dear. My heart has but room for one.” Nilam wiggled his fingers as the door jingled shut. Asra rolled his eyes at the cheesy line, but a rosy fuzziness bloomed warm in his chest. 

He retrieved Nilam’s handcart from the narrow alley out back and set off down the street, the opposite way from the market. As he wandered down to the butcher, he contemplated lollygagging just to let Nilam win. He  _ had _ thought the suggestion of a bit of playful mischief would have been well received, but he was evidently mistaken. Nilam’s face had said everything, even as he agreed to their little bet.

_ I guess he got the wrong idea, _ he thought as he dodged a wagon,  _ When I said ‘non-refusable’, I was just being dramatic. But still, he could’ve just refused the bet. _ His mental list of Discussion points got a new entry and he pondered what he  _ would _ want, if teenage shenanigans were off the table. He was a creative sort. He could figure something out.

The butcher turned out to be a large, friendly man with a small army of daughters helping him run his shop. “So you’re the new hire he mentioned,” the man greeted him with a hearty handshake, “Nice to meet you, kid.” The man was kind enough to load the cart for Asra, dropping in two heavy, waxed-canvas sacks, one rattling as it hit the wood. “Need anything else?”

Asra handed over the handful of owed coins and shook his head. “No, just this for today.”

“‘Right then.” The butcher waved as Asra lugged the cart off. “Say hello to the boy for me.”

Most of the other vendors treated him similarly; friendly greeting, get him his stuff, get paid, friendly farewell. Asra zipped through alleys and between sidestreets, his inner street rat serving him well for his task. The next merchant, a restauranteur, had a note scrawled by his entry:  _ CHEAPSKATE! Check onion boxes _ . Asra raised an eyebrow. Alrighty then.

He soon learned what Nilam meant. Heeding his warning, Asra peeked inside one of the boxes of onion ends, only to find it missing a third of its expected contents. At his polite insistence, the man went grumbling back into the kitchen and returned with a sack full of carrot skins and more onions.

* * *

Wrapping up his stop to the grocer’s, had completed his task with a solid hour-and-a-half left before the lantern would be put out. More than enough time to swing back by the market square to pick up the gift he’d purchased earlier. He rolled the cart up the alley behind the shop, down to the small, walled-off garden, traced the charm to unlock the wooden gate (getting it on the second try), and lugged the load through onto the flagstones. He hopped up the steps, rapped on the back door, and held his hands loosely behind his back while he waited. The door opened and Nilam greeted him with an owlish blink. “Oh, hi there.”

Asra smiled coquettishly. “Delivery for a handsome doctor?”

Nilam stepped outside with a chuckle, “ _ Apprentice _ doctor.” He peered into the cart and checked the contents. “Looks like everything’s here. And with an hour to spare! Good job, Asra.” His eyes flickered as he smiled at him. “Guess you won your bet, didn’t you?”

He cast Nilam a gentle smile and pulled him into a loose embrace.“Guess I did.”

“So. Do you know what you want?”

He tucked a dark curl out of his face. “As it happens, I would absolutely  _ love it _ ...” He’d been thinking about it all afternoon, and on his way back from the market, the perfect thing hit him. He gave Nilam a little squeeze. “...If you’d read to me.”

Nilam’s head tilted sharply and his brow pinched. He stared at Asra and blinked for a moment. “...Read to you.”

“Yeah,” Asra nodded, “Your favorite book, or a childhood fairy tale, something like that.”

“You mean you don’t want… You weren’t after..?”

“I mean... I can’t say I  _ wouldn _ ’t be down for a little messing around…” The tips of Asra’s ears burned. “But… I wouldn't  _ make _ you.”

“Oh. Oh, right, um…” A bewildered smile slipped up Nilam’s cheeks. “But yeah, reading… I um, I can do that.”

Asra grinned and pecked Nilam’s lips. “Let’s do it tomorrow, ‘kay? You wanted to cook later, as I recall.”

“As you wish.” He hugged Asra close. “What did I ever do to deserve you?”

“Shall I make a list?”

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous,” Nilam snorted. “Mind helping me bring this stuff in?”

“Of course.” Asra released him and seized a couple of sacks. “After you.”

* * *

Nilam stretched out on his bed, sketching something in his journal as the sun began to set, perhaps drawing up a design for some sort of charm. Asra lit the lamp on the bedside table and Nilam muttered a quick “Thanks.”

“No problem.” Asra sat down on the edge of the bed. For a few minutes, he played with Nilam’s hair and watched him sketch, wondering if now was the right moment. “Hey, Ni?”

“Hmm?”

“Remember what we were talking about earlier, back in the market?”

Nilam flinched, then let out a sigh, “The bad relationships thing?”

Asra nodded. “Would you… be willing to tell me?” With a groan, Nilam nodded and shut his journal. “Iva, I assume?”

“Amongst others. She’s just the worst of the bunch.”

Asra paused. “How many others?”

He flopped on his back. “Romantically, just two. Counting ‘friends,’” he mimed quotation marks with his fingers, “Not even sure anymore. Stopped caring enough to keep track.”

Asra gently squeezed Nilam’s hand. “Would you tell me about what happened?”

“Why’re you so curious?” He didn’t sound defensive. If anything, a bit confused. 

“I...” Asra shrugged. “Well, I, um…” He searched for the right words. “I can see there’s a lot going on in there.” He tapped Nilam’s skull. “And I know you’ve been hurt - you’ve told me as much - and…” Asra gently encouraged his head to turn from the wall and laid down on his side next to Nilam. “I want to really know and understand you, good and bad.”

Nilam looked away and flexed his fingers. “Right, but… Why?”

“Well… I like you, Ni. I care about you. If Us is gonna be a long-haul type of thing - and I’d like it to be - I’ve got to understand whatever’s going on in there.” He lightly ruffled Nilam’s hair, earning a small smile. “I can’t say I can make it all go away, but if nothing else, maybe I can avoid hurting you worse.”

Nilam sighed and leaned into Asra’s touch. Asra happily pulled him closer, smiling as Nilam wrapped an arm around his middle and buried his face in his neck. He ran his fingers through Nilam’s dark curls until he was ready to talk.

“I started dating Iva right after I turned fifteen,” he began at a low murmur, “She’s actually about a year older than me, but um… I guess it doesn’t really matter how we met. Wasn’t that interesting, really. But um… I, uh… I really fell for her. Hard. Might’ve skinned my knees on the way down,” he joked flatly. “But she… well…”

“Didn’t?”

“Basically. She just wanted some schmuck to buy her expensive things and tell her she’s pretty and play around with her when she’s bored.” He sighed. “And I guess she got one.”

Asra recalled what he said back on their date to the House of Hyakintos,  _ ‘I’m a magpie, not a sugar daddy.’ _ Cogs started slipping into place. “I see. And what happened?”

“Lot of things. She was fun to be around at first. Could be a little… abrasive, but she had a rough upbringing, so what else could I expect, right? As things went on, I dunno… she got meaner, or at least it seemed like she did. She’d pick fights with me over nothing, accuse me of things, call me names… Then afterward she’d come back with apologies and tears and a shopping list.”

Asra closed his eyes and held him tight. “And so you ended it?”

“No,” he sighed derisively, “Well, no, yeah, I did. Eventually. But… not because of that.”

“Then what?”

He hesitated before saying bluntly, “She cheated. I didn’t… She wanted things that… that I didn’t.” He paused to swallow the stones in his throat. “Frankly, I let her do a lot more than I was okay with… a lot of things I didn’t want to do - and I mean, I guess that’s my fault - ‘cause I… I just wanted her to…”

Asra quieted him with a tight hug and a kiss on the head. “No, Ni, it’s not your fault.  _ None of that _ is your fault.”

He shrugged and his throat sounded tight when he continued, “Yeah, well. Anyway… Baskin hated her from the get. Always tried to get me to dump her. ‘Course, she kept trying to get me to ditch  _ him _ . Fought with both of ‘em about it. Then me and him caught her with his brother.”

Asra shook his head in disbelief. “ _ Baskin’s _ brother?” He didn’t even realize he  _ had _ a brother.

“Yeah. His ass of a big brother was living with him. He kicked ‘em both out for good, and that was that. Relationship over.”

“Gods, Nilam, that sounds awful.” 

Nilam shrugged again. “‘S just how it is.”

“And… what about the rest?”

“Oh, right...” He paused for a bit. “A while after that, a little before I turned sixteen, I uh… Well, I met this guy…. Dancer named Leon. He was… a lot. Handsome, fun, charming…”

“A bit like you, then?”

He gave one humorless laugh. “Right, well, I fell for him -  _ shocker _ \- and… things got…”

“Intimate?”

“Complicated,” Nilam corrected. “Kinda. See, I… I liked him even more than I liked Iva. And he knew that.”

“...But?”

He sighed. “No matter how much he treated me like a boyfriend, he wouldn’t actually have me. Insisted he wasn’t into guys.” He scoffed, “Sure didn’t seem to have an issue with it when he had his hands all over me.

“Ah,” Asra sneered, “One of  _ those types _ .”

“Yeah.” Nilam toyed with the pendant resting on Asra’s chest. “I really did like him, though... A lot. Too much. I let him get away with a lot too, but I guess I don’t feel as bad about it with him. At least he treated me well.”

“He  _ used you _ . How is that ‘treating you well?’”

“He was nicer to me,” Nilam shrugged, “And he did seem to like me.”

Asra protested, “That doesn’t excuse anything, Ni.”

Nilam shrugged again. “I let it happen. Can’t really complain.”

“If he didn’t have feelings for you, he shouldn’t have been messing around with you. It’s cruel.” 

“Maybe,” Nilam sighed and laid still, silent for several minutes. 

“What about friends?” Asra suddenly asked, “You told me how Baskin tried to shield you… Surely he wasn’t the only one?”

“No, he pretty much was. The good ones didn’t stick around. He... wasn’t kidding when he said he’s my only friend.”

“But you have-”

“I know people who like me,” Nilam interrupted, “That’s not the same thing as a friend.”

Asra’s brow furrowed in confusion.  _ Then what is? _ “If you say so, but… what happened?”

He huffed and turned his face away. “This and that. Long story short, I was the neighborhood weird kid with a target on my back, and even the kids who called me their friend treated me like crap and stabbed me in the back. Typical kid stuff, I guess.”

Asra blinked. “But what did they-”

“It doesn’t matter anymore, Asra,” Nilam sighed into Asra’s shirt, “I don’t want it to matter anymore. Can we please just… drop it?”

Asra looked down at Nilam, his head cradled in the crook of his shoulder. His eyes stayed loosely trained on the patch of Asra’s shirt he had been fidgeting with. He looked so tired all of a sudden. Thirty minutes ago, Nilam looked like he could go all night. Now his whole face looked heavy and tired, and his eyes kept slipping shut for moments at a time.

“Alright,” Asra acquiesced and snuffed out the lamp, “But Nilam?”

“Hmm?”

“Do you… Are you afraid I’m gonna do that to you?”

“Do what?”

“Hurt you. Like they did.”

A long pause. “I don’t think you’ll try.” 

That’s a far cry from ‘No.’

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you very much for reading! Please let me know what you thought down in the comment box, and let me know what you enjoyed! If there is anything that needs tweaking or tags you think I should add, please do so as well.
> 
> Little else is as encouraging as good helpful feedback!


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